Thirty two days into the new year I’ve forced myself to stop using the “oh it's because of the holidays” excuse as to why little gets accomplished outside of play time. Perhaps it's because this holiday season was so gloriously neutral, not too much going on, but not lacking. Mentally, I want to stay in that blissful neutrality, universally accepted with the simple “holiday” excuse, but the calender moves on and so must I.
But before I do dear Blog, let’s reflect on some highs and lows that brought 2009 to a close.
Every now and then the universe throws you a bone. One of mine is the blessing of our Fabulous Neighbors Russ and Laura Roenick. Not just because they throw a killer holiday party every year where this Momma can get her cheer on and then simply walk two doors down to her own home, but because they are two truly good, fun, and caring peeps.
The night was over the top when my beloved friends Natalie, Melissa, Rusty, and Patrick all showed up to celebrate their holiday spirit in the form of laughter, conversation, and competitive karaoke. As recapped in last year’s blog, the hot spot of the night was in front of the TV with microphone in hand. I toned it down this year to let some of the other guests play, but I still ended up being that last one there begging my tired friends to do just one more song with me.
Fabulous Neighbor Laura totally out did herself with the spread. Her latest party menu additions included BBQ chicken sliders, Mac n’ Cheese cups, Caesar salad shrimp skewers, and sinful Cake Balls (little balls of cake dipped in chocolate) which Eli swore he ate at least 8. As a thank you/Christmas present to my Fabulous Neighbors I contributed Ahi Tuna Tartare (easier to make than you think!) to the menu, which was a nice touch to an already classy party.
What did we do before digital cameras? Well, we for sure didn’t leave taking photos of a toddler to put on a holiday card till the week before Christmas. So thank God for me that we have digital cameras.
I found myself scrounging through my photo files trying to find a family photo to grace the front of our holiday cards this year. Panic set in, I only had photos of Eli and Tavian together (me being the photographer) or just of Babyhead, but never smiling.
For awhile we had a great stretch of photo taking with Tavian. He was such a ham for the camera, and would give big cheesy smiles long enough to get a few shots. But for some reason that ham and cheese streak stopped, now we only get serious looks. Serious, uninterested, I-know-I-am-cute, toddler looks. Knowing this, the task of trying to get a picture complete with a Babyhead smile, was very daunting. This coupled with running out of time lead to a very stressed out Momma taking her two boys out on a Saturday afternoon for a panicked photo shoot.
Two hours, an unexpected dead camera battery, and 50 photos later we returned home, with no smiley ham and cheese photo for my holiday card. Hoping for a Christmas miracle I looked over the photos on my computer. Wait...this one isn’t so bad...actually it is pretty good! One, one out of 50 photos captured a little toddler Babyhead smile. Hallelujah and lesson learned...no last minute photo shoots!
To see more of our photo shoot click here
Semi-Best Grown Up's Weekend
The last time I was in Las Vegas I was celebrating my college graduation with my best friend Linda. Vegas is a magical world for a 21 year old. Exciting, sexy, delicious, intoxicating, risky, and up all night. When you don’t get hung over and can function off a few hours of sleep you fit right in, but so many years later when two glasses of wine and staying up past 10pm is a “wild night,” Vegas is an alien planet.
So when Eli presented me with a surprise 24 hour whirl wind trip to Las Vegas for our one year anniversary I thought...really? Wine country wasn’t an option? But his intentions were very sweet motivated by the desire to take me to the show Love Cirque de Soleil. The in-laws were scheduled to watch Babyhead and before I knew it we boarded a plane to begin our much needed grown up adventure.
Our upgraded room at The Mirage was awesome! I decided at one point in my life I would need to live in a house with his and her bathrooms. A remote control prompted a TV to rise out of the bench right in front of the bed, another feature I will now dream about. Treating ourselves to a little snack we ventured down to BLT Burger and split an amazing cheeseburger and an equally amazing chocolate milkshake, spiked with Godiva liquor.
Being the worst gambler ever I had no desire to sacrifice any cash to Vegas. But with the promise of only spending our pocket change on penny slots, Eli convinced me to test Lady Luck. Once we entered the casino it wasn’t my bad luck that made me head for our room after 20 minutes, but the cigarette smoke. I HATE SMOKE! And in this short time I vowed to never return to Vegas until it was smoke free. And even though I ended up winning $40 on my last pull of a 2 cent slot, I will be spending my winnings on dry cleaning to get that toxic terrible smell out of our clothes.
Our dinner at Japonais was interesting but not worth the scrilla we threw down for it. I oo-ed over the Orchid martini with it’s floating flower, but the exotic stopped there since it tasted like fruit punch. Moving on to the main event we headed over to the theater to see The Beatles Love. The next two hours were filled with heart thumping acrobatics and dance, soul touching music, and mind blowing sets, lights, costumes, props, and effects. I have never heard The Beatles like I did that night and it stirred an urgency in me to pass it onto Tavian so that the music’s power will be passed on to future generations. Deep for a Vegas show, but true.
Trying to keep the spirit of our grown up’s weekend alive we tried to have a drink after the show. But the cigarette smoke was intensifying with the late night party-ers (probably a bunch of 21 year olds) and I couldn’t ignore the clock that read 11:30 or my very heavy Momma eyelids. Plus my grown up, pointy, high heels (which had to be dusted off for the trip) where torturing my sneaker-wearing feet.
And with that, the adventure was over. A quick flight back to Los Angeles brought me home to my Babyhead and smoke-free house. I was happy to spend the time with Eli, but very happy to be home. As they say “absence makes the heart grow fonder” and even though this was true for my non-21-year-old, early to bed, one glass of wine, Momma life...I don’t think my heart with miss that much about Vegas.
There are several wondrous events that make my heart cheer out “Its that time of year again!” The new season of Design Star and 30 Rock, semi annual sales at my favorite stores, the first holiday card received in the mail, taking an evening walk when it is still 80 degrees out. But by far one of the greatest sights that signifies a certain time of year is the table set up outside the grocery store covered in brightly colored boxes housing delicious treats and little girls wearing green sashes chorusing together to the passing shoppers, “would you like to buy a box of Girl Scout Cookies?”
Girl Scout Cookie time, I consider it a very important holiday. I can’t tell you the exact begining and end dates, but the surprise of seeing that table piled with cookie boxes rivals many Christmas mornings. I try to calmly walk (not run) up to the store entrance and wait to be coaxed by the little voices “would you like to buy...” “Yes!” I interrupt. I already know my order, 2 boxes of Samoas, 1 box of Thin Mints, 1 box of Shortbreads. Always convincing myself that this will last me through the season, and when I return a few weeks later for a few more boxes I rationalize that they are only around for a short time, I mean I can’t eat Samoas all year ya know so back off!
In college I hid all my boxes of Girl Scout Cookies under my bed away from the mouths of my roommates. I rationed them for as long as I could because cash was tight and these cookies were like gold. But now as a parent and an example of moral values (like sharing) to Babyhead, having a box to myself is rarely possible. So when Eli brought home a box of Samoas on his own (beating me to the first purchase of the season) my heart melted like the chocolate coating of a Thin Mint...even though it was only one box.
The box was presented after our dinner one night, and I could hardly wait to christen the season with that first chewy, gooey, coconut-y bite of a Samoa. But to my culinary horror my bite was not soft, but very hard! So hard I had to stick it in the back of my mouth and break off a piece with my molars. Speechless I stared at Eli...what did you do to the cookies? What have you done?! “I put them in the freezer,” he said, “I thought they would be good that way. But why aren’t they soft anymore?” Again speechless...I didn’t know how to respond to such a crime or ridiculous question. My husband, the cookie criminal, had ruined the beginning of Girl Scout Cookie season 2010.
This did not hinder me from finishing the cookie, or the second one either...or for the next few nights. The cookie hoarding instinct kicked in, despite their frozen state, I know those delicious darlings won’t last much longer. After a long lecture to Eli about properly preserving Samoas’ signature softness and you only put Thin Mints in the freezer, duh...I was able to recover from the incident with the aide of some hot tea to dip each frozen cookie in, thawing out the goodness I crave all year.
