I know, I know, it’s a week after the Winter Solstice but the logic board on my computer pooped out and I have not been able to download any pictures. For the shortest day of the year dinner I made paella from the Canal House Cookbook. It was the 1st time I made paella so I had to work out a few kinks. Remind me never again to ride my bike while carrying a paella pan that feeds 22 people, 2.2 pounds of Bomba rice and 3 lbs. of bearded mussels. This was my attempt to try to win Chef of the Year in Sam’s Food Blog.
The Paella
We started the meal off with 3 cheeses from Andrews Cheese Shop. I was a bit busy with the outdoor paella making to really enjoy the cheeses but you can see the selection on Sam’s Food Blog. We tried to walk the chicken, chorizo, mussels shrimp and rice off with our annual stroll down to Ocean Ave. to see the Santa Monica tradition of “The Christmas Story”.
pa rum pa pum pum
A tradition since 1953, it consists of chain linked fenced tableaus of biblical scenes highlighting the birth of the Baby Jesus. Getting slightly off the path here but here’s a link to a wonderful Mary and Joseph story by Dina Donahue we heard read at a holiday concert last year. Anyways, back to Santa Monica- Each tableau, sponsored by a local church is comprised of old mannequins from Henshey’s Department Store(defunct since 1993) dressed in fake beards, Topsider loafers, and caftans from old Henshey’s stock telling “The Christmas Story.” If you are ever in Santa Monica at Christmas do go see it. The city has blocked off parking in front of the tableau’s so you can see the Christmas Story the true So Cal. way – Drive Thru-
Let's Light This Candle
For the past few years Winter Solstice dessert means Flaming English Christmas Pudding provided by and ignited by our friend Catriona. She’s from Wales, and it’s always a special treat for her and her family to share this tradition with us.
A Well Guarded Suggestion
Just like that, the day is over. I’m tired and I want to go to bed but there’s alot of dishes to do and cleaning up. The shortest day of the year is feeling a bit longer.
Less then two weeks before Christmas finds me at Home Depot with Theo, Ollie and Simon. After cutting the netting off numerous trees and choosing the biggest roundest Noble fir tree we found ourselves in the biggest line I’ve been in since my last visit to Pinks. So, hoisting the 7′-8′ Noble onto our flatbed Viking barge we snake our way around the Xmas lot looting and pillaging.
All Aboard!
Ollie the Other Reindeer
After our hour long voyage snaking around the tree lot, we approach our destination. The check out cashier awaits with tired sad eyes. She’s had a busy morning ringing up trees and wreaths. Somewhere along the way Simon has plundered a bar code for a 6′-7′ Douglas fir which our smileless cashier shoots with her scanner with pin point accuracy.
Theo holding the evidence
Before I know what’s happening, we are walking off the lot with a $60.00 tree while my receipt says $23.95. As I make my way to the chain saws where more tired faced men are cutting bases off trees that will live in homes for a couple of weeks and then be discarded in alleyways and recycling heaps I’m feeling like Henry Potter in It’s a Wonderful Life when he finds the envelope with $8000.00 from the Bailey Building and Loan Co. Only thing is I’ve always associated myself with George Bailey. I give the guy with the chain saw $5.00. He smiles and says, “Thank You Merry Christmas.”
Cutting the bases
My conscience clear we make our way back to Santa Monica with our plunder. The boys yell, “Mommy, Mommy Daddy got a really cheap tree.” and now the whole neighborhood knows.
Simon and Tree
Tie a Yellow Ribbon
Debbie has taken Sam an Henry to see Lawrence of Arabia at The Aero. I’m sitting on the couch watching It’s a Wonderful Life with the little ones draped all over me. We got a nice fire going the tree is decorated and I’m thinking yeah, life is pretty wonderful.
Day #7 in the Advent Calender brought the boys some holiday stencils and paints to decorate the sun porch windows. They went right to work on this cold wet December day. Only mild grumbling ensued when the color black (which was not included originally as one of the colors) was deemed an absolute essential for snowman top hats, buttons, eyes and machine guns. This turned out to be a great activity which challenged their creative powers along with their spelling skills. HO HO HO.
I was fighting a cold, trying to get ready for a trip to Georgia and cut and drill as many wooden candle bases for the Ocean Charter School Winter fair as I could. I’ve been doing this for years and am thankful for still having 10 fingers and no gaping head wounds.
Production Line
Our friend Teresita came over to knit and make paper window stars with the boys. She teaches handwork at the Pasadena Walfdorf School and always has a way of taming the hearts and souls of our beasts. It’s always great to see her and a special treat on a cold wet day.
Ollie it's way warm inside
Hot chocolate in hands and chicken soup in bellies, the boys continued their crafting through the entire day and into the night.
Theo on tipped toes
Everyday one of the boys asks how many days it is till Christmas and I answer, “It’s practically here,” in reference to Dr. Suess’, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Yeah, I know using a kids book/ TV show as a way to feel kind of takes all the Waldorfy spirit out of the holidays but, I was raised on Dr. Seuss, Charlie Brown, Hot Wheels and Major Matt Mason. And, like Charlie Brown, I think we are all walking around in our usual state of mild depression, searching for the meaning of something. Something that’s practically here and yet here all the time.
Doesn’t it feel like we are just plowing through the holidays. It does for me. Halloween and Thanksgiving are checked off the calendar, the first candle of Advent has been lit, Xmas lights were strung with care and it feels like I’m riding a runaway train to Christmas. Yesterday, Abel our painter, was over to repaint the sun porch and deck. He spent an hour hand sanding the sun porch, sweeping, vacuuming and mopping. Then he cut in with a brush with our insanely expensive Farrow and Ball oil base paint. If you care, We are using New White on the sun porch and Mouse’s Back on the deck. This stuff runs about $40.00 a quart. Jeez. After Abel applied the paint with brush and roller on the sun porch floor he barricaded the area. I was just putting up ropes around the deck with WET PAINT sign. The kids were home from school , had snacks and were dressed for a tennis party at Riviera. The boys were goofing off and for what ever reason Theo waltzes (pushed by Henry) across the WET PAINT. Needless to say, Theo and Henry didn’t make it to the tennis party.
You knew something was bound to happen
I see this is one of those posts where I work backwards in time while memories are still fresh in my mind like we paint I guess. We’ve been having a leftover party for as long as I can remember. Every year, the Saturday after Thanksgiving friends and family arrive at our place with leftovers and usually a bottle of wine. It’s lots of fun reconnecting and it is always funny to hear guests asking whose leg am I eating or whose stuffing is this?
Simon and Sookie at the bar
"Heaven in a Tupperware"
I promised Debbie that I would get the Xmas lights up by the Leftover Party. And, with the help of some of the boys, was able to do it in record time. Ollie was the biggest help, with Theo coming in a close second. Henry came up just to yell at pedestrians and cars passing by our house. Theo did launch a couple of burned out bulbs onto the concrete basketball court just to see what would happen. What happens is Daddy gets angry.
Ollie at work
Up on the roof top
Sam and I went to Topanga Saturday morning and was greeted by offshore breezes, shoulder to head high waves and a fast-moving current. We always start checking out the waves while driving down the California Incline. Charthouse is a surf spot which only breaks a couple of times a year. It need a big swell and it only works at low tide. I’ve never actually surfed Charthouse. I always think (hope) there will be waves here while driving by. I sometimes see people in the water at Chartthouse and tell Sam, “Charthouse is breaking!” Sam always says, ” Dad, that’s not Charthouse, that’s Sunset.” We try to avoid Sunset. This morning was no different. I said, Look, Charthouse is breaking!….And Sam said it’s Sunset.” Then WHACK! My side view mirror hit an orange parking cone. Debbie doesn’t know about this yet. Luckily it’s just the glass and not the housing. And I can still see a little with what is left of the mirror.
You can't look back
done
There’s been a rash of rat sightings amongst our group of friends lately. I have developed quite reputation as a ratter of sorts. I’ve many stories to share about my exploits. This was just your basic remove large rat from the jaws of a snap trap from Jakki’s attic space. I actually found 3 victims in her attic in varying degrees of decomposition.
I brought my helpers
Let’s see where are we? Oh yes, Thanksgiving! We we 16 this year. Debbie’s mom was under the weather and Henry and my mother fought to save her one of the coveted turkey wings. She’ll be back next year to fend for herself I’m sure. I just barbeque the turkey. Debbie prepares everything else.
The bird at rest
Every year is different when barbecuing the turkey. It’s like driving down a long windy road that you’ve driven down a million times before but like with each season the condition of the road varies. But enough about me. Like I said before, Debbie prepares everything else, the stuffing, cranberries, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, brussels sprouts with bacon and chestnuts, pumpkin pie, apple pie and cranberry cake. I think that’s it.
This didn't make it to the Leftover Party
Our friend Teresita came over early with her kids and actually cleaned our house for us. This was an amazing treat and one that I’m truly grateful for. Our boys were farmed in and out but mainly wanted to stay home and (certainly not help clean) but just steep themselves in Thanksgiving productions. This year we made one long dining table in our living room and moved the furniture from the living room and put it in our dining room. We had two blessings. The first one was our traditional, “Earth who gave to us this food, Sun who makes it ripe and good…And then Henry recited the Armenian blessing which Debbie’s dad used to recite every year. For some reason, said in Armenian by Haig this blessing would sometimes take up to 3 minutes. He would have these long pauses where people would grab their forks and knives and just about start to eat and he would start-up again with the blessing. It was great. We all miss him.
Is that all there is?
Anyways, everyone has gone upstairs except Sam, Ollie and I. Sam is palying Take Me Out to the Ballgame on the piano. There’s a stuck key. Ollie is staring at candle flames and wondering if that’s all there is. I’m wondering the same thing. If there isn’t, it’s plenty for me. In fact it’s perfect.
I always mean to thank all our friends and family who help us out throughout the year before we start our meal but this year was no different. The meal just started and you can’t look back. Thank You, Everyone, really!
and all through the house, the smell of bacon is wafting about. The pre Thanksgiving wheels are in full swing. Theo and Debbie are starting desserts. Bacon seems to be the common thread running throughout the entire Thanksgiving meal. Today Debbie sizzled up two pounds of the pork to be diced up for the Brussel sprouts. The bacon grease is reserved and later drizzled into the stuffing.
Oh precious nectar
I wouldn’t even begin to know all what Debbie’s puts in her stuffing, but here are some of the ingredients that I know. It all starts off with fresh pain demi, chanterelle mushrooms, artichoke hearts, dried apricots and a bunch of other stuff. And, as I said before bound together with bacon grease.
Stuffing Starter
For lunch today I fried up polenta in the bacon grease and leftover Bolognese sauce. Really, what’s not to like when it’s cooked in bacon?
never a drop we shall spill
This year I used a dry Sicilian sea salt rub on the Kosher turkey. I’ve been giving the bird a few daily massages and today applied some fresh herbs which Debbie got from the Santa Monica Farmers Market and Bell’s Poultry Seasoning. And of course, I put bacon on top of the turkey before cooking.
The herbs
A Falmouth Tradition
Sam and Henry have been incessantly bickering ( actually some violence ensued) all day about their trivia quizzes they hand out at Thanksgiving and our annual Saturday after Thanksgiving leftover party. Sam started this 2 years ago and last year Henry concocted a Harry Potter quiz. This year Sam somehow convinced (coerced) Henry that 80% of his quiz MUST be sports related. They made me take a photo of them shaking hands in accordance to this agreement.
Here's a photo of them shaking hands
Besides massaging turkey breasts I’ve been trying to get the yard in shape for the holidays. We had a guy come out yesterday to give us an estimate to put artificial grass on the side of the yard the boys practice their athleticism on. That side of the yard seems to take the hardest beating. I’ll give everyone a little quiz here. How much do you think it costs to scalp our old grass, level our soil, put 3″ of decomposed granite and install artificial grass in an area roughly 36″ X 15″? The answer is $6,295.00! And if we do it before the new year he could do the job for $6000.00. Yeah, well that’s not going to happen. Anyways, I’m getting off the subject. Tomorrow we cook, eat and oh yeah give thanks.
Driving from Santa Monica, to Rancho Park, to Pasadena, to Pacific Palisades, to Venice is enough…well enough is enough. We drive as far as we can. Till we can’t go any farther. Ollie asks where we are going. I say we are going to see the Sun.
Go as far as you want
It’s not cold. Even if it were cold it would be just right. Right to the touch. And touch is what they do. Those guys dig right in and run as far as there is land and then some.
Handwork
We’ve left Santa Monica, Rancho Park, Pasadena, Pacific Palisades and Venice behind. Everything and everyplace is behind us now. They are throwing, running and digging. I am taking it all in.
Sandman
We are loosing light, but with every second, every scoop of sand and sea they are gaining more then anything I can ever teach them.
Light and Dark
Things are starting to disappear. It’s a great magic show. I am watching, they are experiencing. After driving all around town in their booster seats, their 5 point harnesses I know it must feel great to be able to throw a rock as far as you can and try to hit the sun. Ollie found 3/4 of a sand dollar in the sand and asks how much it is worth. I tell him it’s worth a lot because he found it.
Ollie
There’s barely any shadows, barely a reflection. I say it’s time to go. For once there’s no arguing. In the car Simon and Ollie want to be wrapped in old beach towels to keep them warm. I guess the day is over.
Fridays are one of the more challenging days of the week. There are 5 lunches to create. As I’ve said before, this is Debbie’s turf. She is the Goddess of Lunches. I just fill up their water bottles and make Debbie a cappuccino. I think they had BLT sandwiches. Actually, Theo had a BL, Sam had a BLT, Henry had a BL, Simon had just a B and Ollie had a hard boiled egg. At pick up Theo said , “Guess who has the best lunches in my class?” I said, “Jack O’Rourke, Chunky’s Kid?” He said, “No, Me!”
Henry complaining
There’s pick up at 2 campuses, cello, swimming and tennis. Don’t ask me who has what, just tell me who needs to be picked up or dropped off at what time and chances are the right kids will get there or get home. 2 days ago Grandma Carol or GC as the boys call her picked up Sam and Henry from tennis the other night. They came traipsing in stinking of sweat. I was getting dinner ready, Debbie was on the phone. I kept asking everybody, “where’s Theo?” No one answered my question. I kept on getting dinner ready, Debbie was still on the phone. I asked again, “Where’s Theo?” Oops, I guess he was left behind at the tennis courts. No worries, GC to the rescue.
Simon
I heard a whimpering sound while making Ragu sauce this evening. Simon had got into puppy no name’s crate and could not get out. Actually, he didn’t want to get out. The whimpering sound was just him making dog sounds.
Ollie smelling the sauce
One of the kitchen bibles (Marcella Hazan)
So Friday is over. Our friend Bruce is over testing some Thanksgiving wines. Ollie is sleeping over our friend Jakki’s house. The kids (we are too) are watching an episode of Johnny Quest. We got a fire going. There were great waves today and the ragu was pretty good!
So, my heartbeat is back at a normal sinus rhythm. The defibrillation worked. My doctor, Dr. Natterson, gave me 120 joules under a general anesthesia called propofol. When I came to after the general I asked the nurse if my body jumped when the shock she said. “Oh yeah, you jumped pretty high.” Since there was a crew shooting a commercial at our place I went to our friends’ house to rest while various other friends nursed me back to normalcy. The art department prepped the night before. Basically, they took all of our kitchen dining room and living room stuff and replaced it with their kitchen, dining room and living room stuff.
This is not our beautiful house...
I went to Dr. Nattersons’ office today for a follow up check up and EKG. I was wearing my brown Knapp farm boots. As the nurse was connecting the electrodes to my ankles she noticed my well worn boots. She said it brought a wave of nostalgia to her. Her father wore the same shoes and were all scruffy and beat- up like mine. What struck me as interesting is the fact that I could bring up a nostalgic feeling of fatherhood. It doesn’t feel like so long ago Debbie and I didn’t have any children and were tooling around town with our fox terrier Asta.
Puppy no-name
There’s a new terrier around town. Debbie’s mother just got this little Welsh Terrier who as of yet has no name and hopefully will be spending a lot of time at our house. She is very cute and very naughty.
A pile of trouble
Let’s see what else is new around here. Oh yeah, the Leonid Meteor shower. Did anyone see it? I woke up at 2:00 am with all intentions of looking at the spectacle but decided that cuddling up with Debbie was far more enjoyable.
Theo getting his bearings
Speaking of boots, Debbie’s cousin Sevan came over or dinner the other night with his girlfriend Zoe. Sevan is a firefighter and paramedic at station #63 in Venice. He has grown to mythical proportions with Simon and his friend Sookie and will soon get an entire blog entry devoted to their adventures while visting him at the fire house. Until then here’s a photo of Simon wearing Zoe’s boots.
My, what big boots you have
So that’s about it. EKG looks good, my blood work looks good. Life is good. Too bad there are no waves.
I was in the Apple Store yesterday, more specifically the Genius Bar, with miscellaneous airport issues. I asked my genius what is the best way to clean my keyboard. He said shut the machine down and clean everything except the screen with a Mr. Clean sponge. A Mr. Clean sponge?
A dirty Mr. Clean sponge
A commercial is being shot at our house tomorrow. In preparations, I’m taking down all our Nelson Bubble Lights. I’ve heard many ways on how to clean these fiberglass lights. The strangest being that a woman used to bathe with them. I’m strange, but not that strange. I usually use warm soapy water but today I’ve decided to use the Mr. Clean Sponge.
Mr. Nelson meet Mr. Clean
There was a small part of me worried that the Mr. Clean sponge would end up eating through the fiberglass and leave me with a skeleton of a bubble light. In case you aren’t familiar with the Mr. Clean sponges let me say these mystery sponges are a miracle. Many a times they have saved us when a Sharpie was wielded incorrectly by one of our kids. They are made in Germany, no ingredients active or inactive are printed on the box. Even the warnings on the labels are vague. “To avoid accidental ingestion keep out of reach of toddlers and pets.” That about covers it.
Alright, back to the computers. So I shut down my laptop and clean all the keys, the top and bottom and restart. The Mr. Clean sponge seems to have disabled my track pad. It’s completely stuck. The geniuses never warned me about this. What have they been drinking? I consulted numerous discussion chat boards and everyone says that I need to reset my PRAM. Resetting your PRAM is sort of like doing Twister with you fingers.
A Stretch
To reset your PRAM you need to shut down your computer, hold down the command and option keys along with the P and R keys restart hold these keys till you hear the second tone. I didn’t believe this was going to work with unsticking my track pad.
I have more hair on my chest
Tomorrow I’m going into the hospital to have what is hopefully going to get my heart rate back on a normal sinus rhythm. My cardiologist is going defibrillate me. It’s kinda like rebooting or resetting my PRAM. What can I say? I guess every 49 years things like this just need to be done. Right? Anyways, I know I won’t have my camera with me so no photos and besides I will be under a general anesthesia.
I don’t love The Yankees. My heart was ripped out a couple of week ago. I’m not referring to the ER post. I’m referring to game 4 of the NLCS. We (The Dodgers) were so close. I’ve been wanting to do a baseball post since April. We even did this Baseball Promo (shown above) piece which we never sent out. It’s now one day after the Yankees won their 27th World Series. Another season has gone by. Baseball like no other sport takes in account the season. You start in the spring and end in the fall with melancholic winter weather looming on the horizon. Just read The Boys of Summer by Roger Kahn you’ll understand what I’m talking about.
The Boys of Summer
I don’t hate the Yankees. Growing up in Ft. Lauderdale, I used to be a huge Yankee fan. They played their spring training games here and I remember going to the games as a kid with my mom and dad and brother. I loved the players names: Whitey Ford, Joe Pepitone, Mickey Mantle, Clete Boyer, Roger Maris to name a few. I was a kid and these were men with manly names. God, I wish I had my old baseball cards. Okay, this is where this post starts to shift to left field or more accurately the bull pen. The bull pen is where the pitchers warm up.
It’s 1971 and the Baltimore Orioles are playing the Pittsburgh Pirates in the World Series. I’m 11 years old, and ride in a big yellow bus to Rickards Middle School. I got a transistor radio hidden amongst my books listening to Mr. Big Suff, A’int No Sunshine and to some of the baseball games. They played during the day back then. I was just amazed by Roberto Clemente and Brooks Robinson. They were my heroes.
Roberto Clemente
Brooks Robinson
The Oriole manager Earl Weaver was a different story. Besides being known for his embarrassing tirades with umpires, he was also intriguing to me for his tomato garden in the Oriole bullpen. I don’t know how I heard about this but apparently this hot head of a manager grew tomatoes in Baltimore’s old Memorial Stadium. I think about this whenever I plant a tomato plant and smell that distinctive tomato plant smell. It brings baseball back to me. Last year while digging up info of Weaver and his tomatoes on the internet I happened upon this interesting article.
O’s groundskeeper Pat Santarone dies at 79
The tomato plants that grew at old Memorial Stadium, and the competitions between head groundskeeper Pat Santarone and manager Earl Weaver that sprouted along with them, are almost as legendary as any championships that were won. Santarone died unexpectedly Tuesday at his home in Hamilton, Mont. He was 79.
“Pat and I were very close. He was the best man at my wedding,” Weaver said. “And he meant a lot to Memorial Stadium. He was just like a part of that park itself.”
Santarone, who served as head groundskeeper from 1969 to 1991, died in his sleep of natural causes.
Little League
We always plant tomatoes in our summer garden. They never do too well. Maybe it’s because we don’t get enough full sun in our yard. Or maybe it’s because June is usually foggy in Santa Monica. Also, we are usually on Kauai during most of the harvesting time. I don’t plant Heirloom tomatoes like a lot of people lately. I’m all for more traditional tomatoes like Beef Master, Early Girl or just plain Cherry Tomatoes. Do you think Earl Weaver would plant tomatoes with names like Brandywine, Cherokee Purple or Green Zebras? I don’t f*#@*^*g think so.
