Frankie the Turkey

Here is a little glimpse into the Nichols Family Funtime Thanksgiving...

Sugarbear decided that this was the year when he was going to flex his meat smoking muscles. He has been telling me for six months that he wanted to buy a smoker, and Thanksgiving seemed like the perfect opportunity. So, off he went to Home Depot a few weeks ago and came home with a shiny red smoker. The test run ham turned out perfectly, so he was sure the Thanksgiving day performance would be just as good. Sugabear was in charge of the shopping for the Thanksgiving feast, and he lovingly selected a smallish turkey and a smallish ham. He meticulously researched the best brines, and concocted the most aromatic rubs. He spent Thanksgiving Eve administering the tasty treatments to the bird he had christented Frankie, massaging and rubbing the spices. He had whole conversations that day with Frankie, reassuring him, lovingly instructing him. He got up before dawn to begin the smoking process.  And I must admit... this was the best turkey we've ever made. Thanks to Frankie.... Frankie the Turkey...

A Man and his Bird

Props also to Thomas the Ham... cause what else do you name a Thanksgiving ham?

At Least She's Thrifty...

I've already posted about the weird toy habits of my Dachshund.... her driving need to disembowel any toy she is given, her insane obsession with fetch... just to demonstrate, below is a picture of what she brought me the other day...

It is a fleece toy scrap about 2 inches long...it used to be a plush dog... and as you can see in the background, she fully expects me to throw it for her to fetch... do you have any idea how hard it is to throw a piece of fleece that small any considerable distance? It's not easy, my friends. She eventually tore it into pieces too tiny for her to even carry around... so I finally got to dispose of the poor little thing. She has been known to bring me pieces of fluff from the inside of toys to play fetch... she may need therapeutic intervention.

But on the plus side, we don't have to buy toys very often.

Jam

This is jam. Strawberry Jam. This is strawberry jam that I made with my own two hands in my own kitchen which I then canned... and I only burned myself twice.

I am very proud of myself. And it is delicious.

There is a good chance that everyone will be getting jam for Christmas this year...

But What If I Need Butter?

The past couple of weeks have been a little hard on the emotional side of things... which, if you know me well, is not something I ever readily admit to. I blame it on the upcoming holidays. A lot of people have difficulty this time of year... those who have lost loved ones, those who don't have close loved ones, those who are ill... i could go on and on. Infertility fits squarely in that catgory of people. The holidays are largely centered around children... from the songs on the radio down to the cutesy Rudolph onesie in Target... for instance, on a normal summer day, walking by the 'baby' section of Wal-Mart makes me hold my breath and walk a little faster. During the holidays, I might as well avoid that area of the store all together... which is unfortunate because it is next to the dairy section where they keep wonderful things like butter and milk. Heck, Christmas is a holiday firmly centered around THE baby, for crying out loud... Nativity scenes once made me feel very peaceful and calm... now they just turn me into a blubbering mess.

So, all that to say, I've been a little touchy. Which is directly related to how I ended up crying in the bathroom at a church during a ladies' evening while everyone else enjoyed their cheesecake and coffee and listened intently to a speaker telling us how to "Bring Home the Wonder of Christmas"... the last straw on the proverbial camel's back was this cheesy song about Mary and how she felt about Jesus... so I did what any touchy barren woman would do... I faked a choking cough to explain my watery eyes and high-tailed it to the loo where I could regain my composure in private. I am not ashamed people:-) But, that is not where my emotional mini-breakdown started...

It all started ealier in the evening listening to other women complain about their children... A little disclaimer- I know being a parent is the most difficult job on the planet... I know that sleepless nights make you crazy, and tantruming children make you want to sell them on the black market, and teenagers have their own universe of problems. I know that mothers need to feel comfortable expressing their frustration with mothering sometimes, and that there is a lot of pressure to be supermom... I know.

But, the fact still remains that I would give absolutely anything in the entire world to have the opportunity to complain about having to get up every night for a year to nurse my child.

This song has been in my head a lot lately... most of you have probably seen or heard it. If so, go about your business. If not, I encourage you to listen and watch. Just ignore the theatrical hand motions... they annoy me...

Not 30

I am not thirty. Not yet anyway. My 29th birthday was last week, and Sugarbear went around telling everyone that I was not thirty. Sure, people have teased me, last year in my twenties, etc. It's all in good fun, and getting older never seemed all that worrisome to me. Who knows, maybe one of these days I'll actually start to feel like a grown-up versus some tongue-tied, half-scared kid. So, turning 30 next year doesn't bother me in and of itself. Turning 30 and still being a family of 2 bothers me beyond description. But, that's not my point.

My point is that even though there are things that I hope change before I turn 30, I still love birthdays. Why? Not because of the gifts or the cake, or the happy birthday wishes. My favorite thing about my birthday is a phone call. I have a large immediate family, and we are a fair distance away from each other. So, birthday phone calls are required in my family. Sometimes my twin brother and I race to see who can call each other the earliest. I love all the birthday phone calls, but one in particular is especially meaningful.

For as long as I’ve been old enough and far enough away to get birthday phone calls, my birthday has always started with a short but sweet phone call from my grandmother. Every year on the night before my birthday, I make sure I put my phone by my bed, because I know that before I get out of bed, my grandmother will call. She always calls first. She doesn’t say hello, she doesn’t say good morning. She sings me happy birthday. Bless her heart, singing has never been her thing. (which she readily has admitted to for as long as I remember). But, she sings me happy birthday. And it is the highlight of my day.

The older I get, the more and more that one warbly happy birthday phone call means to me. I cherish it because there will be a birthday, when I’m very old, where I won’t get woken up by that early morning birthday serenade from my grandmother. The sweetest traditions don’t always come in big, grandiose gestures. Sometimes they come in a simple, sweet phone call from a slightly tone deaf little not-too-old lady…

Siblings

I have a big family. I have 2 brothers and 2 sisters. There is me (technically the oldest), my twin brother C, my middle sister B, my little brother W, and my littlest sister M. My siblings are one of the reasons I want a large family. (failing miserably at that at the moment, but that's another post for another time). My siblings are some of my best friends, and being the oldest, I am very much the caretaker... the whole birth-order psychology seems to be exaggerated in my family. I am fiercely protective of them, particularly my two youngest siblings, and do not take kindly to anyone being mean to them, bullying them, or hurting their feelings, no matter how much I might pick on them:-). After some stressful circumstances over the weekend, I got to thinking about how different we all are, particularly the three adults. My two youngest siblings are still in high school, so as much as I think they are the smartest, coolest, funniest, sweetest, most interesting and adorable people ever, I didn't include them in my observations. So, to demonstrate the differences between me and my two adult siblings, here is a list of various situations, and a description of how each of us would respond.

1. You lose your job.

Me- I will proof read your resume, help you scour the want ads, and help you think through possible interview questions.

C- He will commiserate with you on how awful your old boss was, how you didn't make enough money anyway, and how much getting  fired "sucks, man". Then he will let you beat him in Halo just to make you feel better.

B- She will bake you 'Sorry You Got Fired' cupcakes, and then she will give you the name and number of the friend of a friend she met last weekend whose brother's neighbor owns a company that is specifically looking for someone just like you... then she will take you shopping for a new, perfect interview outfit.

2. You get dumped.

Me- I will tell you I'm sorry, then spend the evening making you laugh with sarcastic commentary on the things I didn't like about your ex anyway.

C- He will take you to Hooters, buy you a drink, and introduce you to either his cute, lonely coworker, or the one Hooters girl that doesn't flirt with him... then he'll tell you the horror story of his roommate's awful breakup, including the conspiracy theory on what happened to his roommate's puppy... just to make you
feel better.

B- She will make you break-up cookies, and threaten to have her 'acquaintance' in the bad part of town go key your ex's truck.She will then put together a Friends-worthy relationship-cleansing-ritual evening complete with bonfire of useless cards and gifts, and knowing her, ending with cute fireman after said bonfire gets
out of hand.


3. You are in the hospital.

Me- I will come sit with you... conversation optional. I will go track down your nurse when you need something. I will make inappropriate, but hilarious, jokes about your condition that youcan't help but laugh at. I will rub your feet, but will hate it, because I hate feet...but I'll do it anyway because it needs to be
done.

C- He will come see you, and score extra pudding cups by flirting with your hot nurse. He will bring you his favorite movie to watch, just to make you feel better.

B- She will be your hookup for any contraband that isn't allowed in your room... cigarettes, Red Bull, your dog... it doesn't matter, she will find a way to sneak it in. She will bring you your favorite lunch, and will sneak you soda before surgery. She will score you a better room because she had a history class for half a semester with the girlfriend of the son of some hospital administrator. She will call out anyone that is anything but attentive and sensitive to your needs.


4. Your pet dies.

Me- I will tell you I'm very sorry, because I know that pets are like family. I will give you suggestions on excellent rescue programs should you choose to get another pet. I will offer you theservices of a certain hateful housecat to ease the blow.

C- He will sympathize, tell you about every pet he's ever lost, and encourage you to talk about how good your pet was, just to make you feel better.

B- She will bring you soup, a commemorative plush toy, and will help you write the eulogy. She will offer suggestions on pet crematoria, or buy you a flower to plant over the gravesite if you choose to bury your pet's remains. She will present you with a bronzed collar engraved with your pet's name, and for Christmas
that year, will present you with a certificate for the star that she named in your pet's honor.

My siblings... I love them. And their quirkiness. In a lot of ways, I wish was more like them... they are excellent people, and I'm glad I belong to them:-)

Lazy Cat

I spend a lot of time talking about the puppies. I realized that I have not devoted equal time to the feline. Like I've said before, the kitten was a surprise gift from my husband one day a couple of years ago when I was feeling more than a little sorry for myself, and he felt I needed something to nurture. The problem is, the feline wants nothing to do with me. She hates my guts. She will barely let me near her. However, she loves Sugarbear. She sleeps at his feet, sits in his lap, and tries to groom his head. I reach to pet her, and she runs away, if she doesn't flat out bite me.

That really doesn't have much to do with this post... the point is that she lives a plush life befitting any cat... she gets the best food, lots of attention from Sugarbear, plays when she wants, sleeps when she wants... so I spent a lot of time picking out a toy that she would like, that would endear her to me... and what does she do?

She doesn't even bother to get up to play with it.