CHRISTMAS JOY

Christmas is an odd situation for midwesterners transported to the desert regions of Arizona.  Temps remain fairly constant in the upper 60s to low 70s (the main reason we came),  skies are their normal pure bright blue, and the primary colors of our surroundings are variegated shades of winter beige.  In reality, Christmas needs a bit of crisp shivery cold mixed with skiffs of snow, and small awestruck children scattered here and there...all of which are scarce in this community.

I would like to tell you that we have decorated like crazy at our house--like this:

But we didn't. 

Or, wild and crazy people that we are--like this...

But, we didn't do that either.

NO! NO! NO!

Actually, we're not very good at outdoor decorating--it's that thing about mixing ladders, roofs and brittle bones.  So, we set the mood in small, subtle ways.

Like Christmas music--Mannheim Steamroller mixed with a bit of Kenny G and George Winston, and a little  Christmas color for our Christmas spirits. 

It works for us.

THE NERVOUS COOK...COOKS

It's been a hard week for The Nervous Cook.  On Monday she shopped.

On Tuesday, she cleaned house, beginning in the master closet.  The Nervous Cook is not in analysis, although she senses there could be great benefit from that.  But, even without an analyst she knows she cleans the master closet before guests arrive because it gives her a certain, sense of control over her life.  "I may be a nervous and uneven cook," she thinks to herself, "but this closet looks darned good."  Two mornings later the alarm signals that T-Day has arrived, and it's still dark outside.  You can't begin too early!

The turkey patiently waits for its stuffing next to its little friends, the rolls, who seem to be growing a bit quicker than their package had suggested.

In the meantime, the Nervous Cook's "Sweet Babboo" is having another cup of coffee and checking out the newspaper.  It's a holiday, you know.

Enough of that holiday nonsense in the house robe--there's serious work to get done and get done now!  Life is earnest...life is real, and you can't begin too early.

Yes, The Nervous Cook is just fine, thank you.  May she have some champagne now?

The guests begin to arrive.

It's one of those gorgeous Arizona afternoons when the patio is the perfect place to be.

It just makes you think Norman Rockwell, doesn't it?  No--I understand--an overcooked turkey in pieces is not a pretty sight.  It is beginning to look as if a person actually can begin too early.  The Babboo got away from The Nervous Cook or he would never be out displaying this poor creature to guests who are bravely smiling through what some suspect may be waves of nausea.

They came, they ate, and they have lived to tell about it!  They are dear people.   

Thank you friends!

  

THE NERVOUS COOK PLANS

The Nervous Cook's mother did cook (under protest) but wasn't what you would ever call comfortable in the kitchen.  She much preferred sitting on her shady, cozy patio with book in hand, ashtray at her elbow and, if it was after five, a small glass of Chablis.  She took her younger daughter to the library every week, made her listen to the Metropolitan Opera's broadcast each Saturday afternoon, and dragged her to the Community Concerts four times each winter.  She did not teach her how to cook a roast, bake bread, can vegies nor assemble stuffing for a Thanksgiving turkey.  The young girl could, however, shake up a mean whiskey sour strong enough to mellow many a '60's Mad Man.

The Nervous Cook and her Sweet Baboo have invited six friends for Thanksgiving Dinner.  So, the Nervous Cook is thinking to herself, what in the h*#l have I done?  This event will obviously call for serious cooking skills which might include baking, stirring, crusting, mashing, basting and stuffing--with a bit of sheer hysteria folded in.

So, the Nervous Cook plans...

Despite being a Nervous Cook, our gal has quite a cookbook collection.  She has gathered a representative sample to begin the planning process.  But somehow, even to her, it seems sick and wrong, if not completely Un-American, to cook a Thanksgiving dinner for eight in fifteen minutes.



The Nervous Cook has now jumped from the sublime to the ridiculous.  While the Women of Great Taste cookbook from the Wichita Junior League generally yields quite tasty dishes, it is usually a long and winding road to get there.  The Nervous Cook doesn't have that much time.

The Nervous Cook has now called on Williams-Sonoma's Christmas cookbook--you can sense the tension building.  The Nervous Cook is scanning stray printouts of untried recipes from the computer and seeking the comfort of The Pioneer Woman's calmness.

The Nervous Cook is now finished.  She has checked drawers and shelves for ingredients, she has used up the computer's battery, and her list is complete.  She is going to lie down now.

 

   



A CERTAIN AGE

When I drove in from the airport after my California trip it was dark, which occurs pretty early now that Arizona autumn is officially here.  I was kind of down in the dumps after leaving the kids...Collin's little sad face had stayed with me.  Lauren was pretty oblivious at the time, but her Mother did report that she screamed "GG" for ten minutes after they left the airport.  What a sweet little girl!

I gathered my bags, collected the mail and set about the reorganization that always follows a trip--even a short one.  I unpacked a bit and then sat down to open the mail.  I've always loved mail--even in today's world where most of it can be recycled before reaching the front door.  I'm standing in the kitchen sorting--pitch here, recycle there, open that...when an envelope caught my eye--and why not?  "Win a Free Cremation.  No Purchase or Obligation."  Whoa!!

I had to open that one.  "Dear Margie," (lucky guess, right?) followed by a page and a half of "no sales pressure", "no obligation", and then the bottom line:  "Sometimes death happens before you have had a chance to put plans in place.  We stand ready to assist at a moment's notice should you need immediate help."

Suddenly, I needed to sit down.  I may not feel well.  Perhaps a sore throat?  Yes!  I'm awfully tired?  Yes!  A pain?  Sharp or dull?  Yes!  A headache?  Dizziness?  Is this a moment?  I think I might need immediate help immediately!!

Then I carefully tell myself to calm down.  I'm reading an advertising piece sent out, no doubt, to all of Sun City Grand.  I'm fine, I'm young for my age, I exercised two weeks ago, I drink a glass of red wine every evening.  Actually, I think I'll have one right now.

OK, I'm good.  In fact, I'm kind of amused.  Win a cremation!!  I hadn't expected that even in this neighborhood.  So, I take a little sip and slit open the next envelope.  "Dear Margie,  Do you find yourself asking others to repeat themselves more and more often?  Are you feeling left out of conversations?"   "Digital hearing health care...Call today for an appointment...be sure to bring a friend or loved one--someone whose voice is familiar to you ."  Why would I need to do that?  Will I be having a moment?  Will I be needing immediate help?

I'm leaving the rest of the mail for tomorrow.

 

A PERFECT DAY

What they said:  "WAKE UP, GG.  It's time to get up.  The tick-tock said 7."

What I know:  The tick-tock didn't say 7.  The tick-tock said 6.  Good-bye Daylight Savings--Hello Standard Time! 

What they said:  "Mommie lets us watch TV...This is a good program."

What I know:  Mommie DOESN'T let them watch TV and this is NOT a good program.

 What she said:  "GG ookla merkostks GG, wprgclt spqlklacog."

What I know:  She can say "GG".  Heart melt time.

 What I know:  This is one of the few times today there will be cooperative play.  AND--she's running the remote control for the Geo Trak and running it well.  She is 22 months old.

What I know:  It's a beautiful picnic day and this little one is an easy eater.  A turkey sandwich, apple slices, milk and she's happy.

What he said:  This sandwich is yucky!

What I know:  Big brother wanted McDonald's for lunch, and even though this is a great sandwich, we'll never know it.  Plus--there's a practice bat in the background and he's here to smack the ball off of that T.

What we all know:  It's time to clean up and head home for naps.

Later:  Daddy's fixing his famous Carne Asada Tacos--GG's favorite!  Mommie's downloading photos for her blog, the kids are outside playing and the perfect day is coming to a perfect end.

Thank You for a wonderful visit!

OAK CREEK CANYON

After lunch on Sunday, we left the pub and walked back toward the car.  Oops--while we'd been munching and sipping, the sun had slowly been hidden by dark clouds.  That partly cloudy forecast had been somewhat optimistic.  And...it was just a bit chilly--no, it was a lot chilly!  Oh well...we'd brought jackets, which we pulled from the trunk and, like the troopers we are, lowered the top of the car, turned up the heater and...

headed off on a small, but great, adventure!

Well, poop!  The gorgeous rocks aren't quite as brilliant, dramatic or contrasty when it's cloudy, dark and dreary.  However, I was on a mission (photography class homework), so "dull" wouldn't stop me.

The views changed constantly as we drove along.  Red rocks mixed with cream and white rocks are on the left, the right, in front of us and behind us.  I knew how Linda Blair felt when my head spun out of control while BC directed, "Look, there's a good one!"  "You need a picture of that!"  "Look behind you!"  "Did you get that picture?"    In the meantime, I'm trying to remember how to change settings on the camera, then--what settings do I need for this situation--and finally, where's the d*&n#@ "auto" button?

I've never been a geology type person, but I do have to wonder both how and why these rocks formed in this area, composed of these minerals, weathered into these shapes, colored as they are.  It's fascinating I know, but I'd never stay totally alert or awake for the whole explanation.  It's important, though.

Maybe, I'll describe these photos as "brooding" before I hand them in at class.  That would make them look as if I worked very hard for a mystical, mysterious Exmoor-ish atmosphere.  Will it fly?

Just beyond the area of rocks, canyons and peaks, the colorful leaves come into their own.  It's not New England, but for Arizona, it's not bad.  The red tree in the background was so perfectly and evenly red, it looked totally fake.  But it wasn't--I checked. 

This would be a fun place to rent in October.

We soon reversed course and returned to Sedona.  BC travels on his tummy, and he heard the ice-cream shops calling his name.  Then, sadly, we thought our great adventure was over for yet another day.  But, as we left Sedona, the sun popped out of the clouds for just a few minutes lighting up these formations.

This formation looked exactly like a ancient castle crumbling into the landscape.

I can die happy!

 

SEDONA AND TLAQUEPAQUE

Sunday morning just seemed like a perfect day for a road trip.  No schedule, plus a short blurb in Saturday's paper noting that the leaves were beginning to change in Oak Creek Canyon meant it was definitely time to climb our of our self-imposed ruts and catch some of that Arizona magic.

Located just two hours north, Sedona is a favorite of nearly everyone.  And our special spot in Sedona is Tlaquepaque.  Yes--Tlaquepaque.  The only place I have more trouble pronouncing than Tlaquepaque is Oaxaca.  Also, I've just discovered that Tlaquepaque is kind of fun to type!

OK--one last time:  Tlaquepaque is an area of  unique tiny shops and great art galleries.  The courtyards are alive with sculptures, and what we used to call "New Age" Music fills the air.  For me--not the most widely traveled person in the world--it's a perfect re-creation of colonial Mexico, and the New Mexico of decades ago.

I love these long shaded galleries leading to--who knows where?

Perhaps here, for example.

All of the buildings contain two levels, so hidden stairways with beautiful Mexican tiles may be around any corner.

 Doorways here and there beckon us to explore the adjoining courtyard and whatever treasures it may hold.

 I love these fellows!

This tiny vine covered chapel is sometimes the site for small weddings.  It's great fun to be here when a couple has just gotten married, and the wedding party is giggling, sipping a bit of bubbly and  mingling in the tiny courtyard fronting this building.

This rather "busy" courtyard is filled with sculpture--an elk on the left, the rearing horse in the center, and a lovely fountain complete with birds in flight.

I could live here--it's great during all four seasons--although winter can be a bit nippy for us thin blooded semi-natives.

One of my favorite sculptures and, yes, it's moi, with the pig who leans in to get his ears scratched.  I'd love to have pig in our courtyard, but saner heads prevail in our household.  I was feeling badly when BC took this shot as, just the morning before, we'd hosted our "Vermont Country Breakfast" for the neighborhood, complete with Vermont cob-smoked bacon, and maple glazed ham.  Fortunately, nobody told pig.

We've wandered a bit and now it's time for lunch and, what can I say?  We're the ultimate sophisticated Brew Pub fans, and this is our Tlaquepaque favorite.  Oak Creek Brewery and Grill complete with its great food and atmosphere.  It doesn't get much better!

 Please visit again in a day or two as we head north in Oak Creek Canyon for views of the foliage and the great towering red rocks.

WHAT I DID FOR LOVE (Conclusion)

For all of you who waited with baited breath to learn the correct number of goldfish, and I know you're out there, it's 1,592.  I promise--not one more, not one less!  After all, counting goldfish is an exact science. And, despite my closing innuendo last week, they came through the Oktoberfest ordeal in much better shape than I'd anticipated.

They did swim away from their original, rather military positions, but they're still in the jar--and the predators kept themselves under fairly decent control.

We witnessed a bit of tilting, back and forthing, and side to siding; and had three fly-fishers with tape measures discussing cubic inches and specific sizes of the various fish.  Most folks, however, in the spirit of the event simply said, "to h@#* with it", wrote a quick number and headed to the brats and beer.

This fellow, who hadn't been to the brats and beer stands yet, turned out to be a "lifter" and looks quite surprised as the lid comes off in his hand.

He recovered quickly, and the jar never hit the ground, but the little buggers  flew in all directions as his embarassed wife began grabbing stray fish left and right.

Others joined in and, despite the fact that fish were swimming frantically to get under the table, all were caught and released unharmed to the jar.  The day (and contest) were saved!  Whew--it was close!

Now they're back home and, day by day, they're taking on more personality.  As you can see in the photo above, they've had a few tussles, but generally they're getting on well.  If you watch them, you begin to notice their facial expressions are unique...some are obviously demented, others are endearing, and some are just stupid but very happy.  A better person than I would say they have something to teach us--I just don't know what.  It doesn't seem right to throw them out, I can't feed dirty goldfish to my grandchildren, and they don't fit with my carefully choreographed decor...it's weighing heavy on me!