Bane!

The "I'm going to run away and check myself into a hotel" daydream has reached epic proportion. Tarnation, people, this weekend is bringing me down. I woke up wearing a headache vice so tight and horrid I felt sure that someone had strapped me into a Bane mask during the night. I microwaved my flipping lavender-infused neck wrap, donned it, popped two Advil, got some coffee and hunkered into a comfy chair with the paper. I felt pretty lame, truth be told. Like I should just put on some compression socks, insert a TMJ mouthguard and call it quits on cool.

Then the boys starting blowing up balloons and making them fart and whiz. Those stupid rubbers were zipping all around, and I just told them they better get their fannies downstairs pronto because this mama was NOT.IN.THE.MOOD. They looked skeptical, and I saw red. Seriously, do kids ever take their mothers seriously? Jesus h. T was disassociating on the couch - what an effing gift that man has - so after I finished my coffee, I decided to go to the farmers market. Jack said he'd come along, so I took it as an opportunity for a lovely date. Isn't that zen of me?

Other than spilling hot cider all over the information desk where we were donating to the awesome Thanksgiving Drive Fresh Farm Markets has going on (they are raising money to buy as many happy turkeys from market purveyors, at retail price, for DC families in need as possible), we did indeed have a fantastic time together. Jack ate precisely 9 apples while we shopped, and we met a cool watercolor artist who paints vivid pics of food and has just published a cookbook.

My head started pounding again so we returned home, and T took the boys to their fourth and final birthday party of the weekend. The birthday girl is the cutest little cha-cha, and I am said to miss seeing her as well as her terrific parents. Boo hiss stupid Bane mask.

There are so many things I want to cook today but what actually transpires is a different story. Here's hoping for more applesauce, some tomato jam, and a steak dinner to bid this loony weekend adieu!

Blurrrrrrrrr

Babysitter cancelled yesterday afternoon. Sad. Oliver ran pell-mell down a hill until he fell, face-first, into the sidewalk. Awful. Kids and I hung out. Made a big pot of gumbo. Awesome. Slept in basement. Also awesome. Cat dramatically mewed at door for lengthy session this morning. Less awesome. Drove kids to first birthday party. Went and picked them up. Drove one to another party. Dropped other off so he could catch ride to his second party. Picked first one up from party. Came home and informed husband he would be picking up second one and friend and carpooling them home. Raked one million bags of leaves. Encountered lots of Percy "treats." Was made to watch as one son repeatedly blew up balloon, inserted it into toys, one by one, and let the package go. Could it fly? No. Second one gets home. Two boys racing through house = trouble a'brewing. "We need a moment of silence" I implored. "Can we have the iPad?" was the response. "Absofrickinlutely" was mine. Ground almond biscotti for tart base. Tossed with butter and baked and swooned. Whisked egg yolks, flour and sugar in double boiler. Added hot milk, vanilla and almond extracts. Stirred ricotta into thick custard. Baked. Chilling. Ate salad left on Ol's plate from dinner. Took a shower. Addressed so many holiday cards. Loved every second. Tired. REAL tired. Going to bed with paper. Wondering how long I'll last. Tomorrow is not Monday.

Heirlooms

Perhaps you remember the post I wrote in July of 2012 just after we returned from the service honoring the life and passing of Tom's paternal grandmother. She had died a few months prior but wished to be cremated and then be celebrated at a party. I found this spirit to be spectacular! The morning we were all to leave, we went to Grandma's house, and I was lucky to get to take many of her kitchen items home, including beautiful champagne coupes, a potato masher, some sheet pans and so on. I use much of what I brought back on a regular basis! Anyway, when Jack and I went home for Nanny's funeral last month, I similarly spent time on my last day there poking through Nanny's kitchen cabinets. I think because I had been so close to her and her death was still so new, going through her things was a much heavier experience than was going through Grandma's. I almost felt like a thief defiling a sacred space. You might recall that I mentioned her Saltines tin and shared a picture of it with you. The oval roaster, her canning funnel, an old menu-making guide from her and Papa's restaurant... fingering those items brought back so many memories; each of them is imbued with such history.

Today I opened a large, carefully wrapped box from my mom and found inside all of these items and more. I adore this green and white Pyrex mixing bowl, and this 10" springform pan helped make innumerable cheesecakes over the years during which Nanny cooked. My dad loved her cherry cheesecake, and she used to make him one for his birthday each year. The rounded-corner pan was the one in which she made her refrigerator sheet cakes, and she had such a collection of old -really vintage now!- ornaments (see Santa in there?).

I have missed Nanny regularly since she died; her absence has been like a low-grade fever I can't shake. I have thought many times about how different Christmas in Louisiana will be this year without her home to spend Christmas Eve in, Nanny in her recliner, the Queen of it all. But I have my memories and now I have these physical memories too. Each time I use the pan or the funnel or hang Santa on our tree, another image of her will sweep through my mind. I hope I'll remember to pause and enjoy the reel slowly, helping the pictures stick for good.