It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

Came across this gem in my wandering and wondering.

I use the same burner, unless I happen to be in the throes of gourmet cooking and using two burners. (As many as three times a year(!) It’s really more a matter of practicality than habit, I’ve decided. I don’t want to clean more burners than I have to, so I stick with one, branching out when necessity dictates. (Last night the mashed potatoes and broccoli vied for “best burner award.”)

There are other odd favorites around the chef’s quarters. In the spatula department, of which no one speaks either, I head for the same one, sure to deliver a clean sweep every time. And some of the slotted spoons are relegated to the back of the drawer in favor of the smoother, non-chinked -from-the-dishwasher spoons. However, there is no excuse for the serving spoon, bent in half, used in the famous “gravy boat” years in my husband’s family. I don’t understand the story, but we inherited the jewel. It is stored in the drawer which-shall-not-be-named.

Apparently I’ve been doing more cooking over the holidays. These important observations came to the forefront as I noticed my burned hot pads. I still use them in favor of the intact ones.

Who can know the mind of a truly great chef?

Noel!

Some restaurants are reopening for indoor dining, as opposed to indoor fishing hut dining in the parking lot. It was a new experience!

I chuckled when I saw this one. Merry Christmas to all!

That was my daughter’s sassy little note to me. All in good fun, she was referring to the ever-popular “Music Party,” which will be on hiatus this year. It’s been a tradition since my children took up musical instruments in grade school. I started it so that other kids like mine (and me) could play the easy carols on their instruments, and because I grew up with my hundreds of relatives singing carols at my Grandma and Grandpa’s, and I missed that. (It seemed like hundreds, probably only 75 or so.)

At one point in the party history, we had two trumpets, two violins, accordion, saxophone, two guitars. As a by-product I now have myriad music stands. Anyone who didn’t have an instrument knew they would get the finger cymbals, cowbells, or drum. Lots of great food and cheerful banter.

I will miss the noise – not just the belting out of the dreaded “The 12 Days of Christmas,” or, me insisting on singing all five verses of “Good King Wenceslaus,” or me making my daughter sing, “Breath of Heaven.” I’ll miss the camaraderie, of course. Music illuminates the joy of the season.

We’ll rely on the songs of the angels this year, angelic and unfailing. (And I may be singing loud enough for all to hear anyway – ala Jovie in “Elf.”)

It’s that time of the year – everything looks dusty. I know it’s always dusty, but the angle of the sun at this very point in times illuminates the dust in a special way. That’s a contronym, correct? I’m dusting to remove the dust, which has deposited a dusting.

Anyway, that’s the schedule for today. Boring. Necessary. And holy. That’s why Jesus laid low for 30 years, doing his daily work at his father’s side. Showing us that our chores are holy. Off I go!

This cracked me up. Thanks, Palysun! I know it’s many people’s favorite song, and I really don’t know how this part of the song is written, but I did always question “The Little Drummer Boy” in the lineup of carols. Peaceful slumber to all of those newborns out there during this holy season – and the rest of us awake at 4:30 a.m.

Yes, it’s less than a week until Christmas and I am still hanging some lights outside. (The nativity remains unplugged. Apparently, it really is a little too challenging for me to locate an extension cord.)

So, in my last-minute desire to throw more joy onto the porch, I checked the strands, (only two) and swiftly wrapped the diminutive trees in the freezing temps. Only one works. Now what?

Given that this other illustrious example of my motivation exists, I know exactly what will happen.

I have had the timer for the Christmas treeing gently placed by the outlet for the past three weeks. What do I do? I just keep plugging and unplugging the tree at night. I would have set the timer, but then I’d be missing out on some valuable stretching exercise.

The outdoor lights will be my next workout. I’ll just go out and forcefully jiggle them every evening until they obey.

I am here to state that either works on your head.

Yes, I was preparing for a little outing yesterday, when I thought to primp a bit before the general public was shaken by my appearance. To my credit, both the hairspray and deodorant I’m using are in blue cans. Alas. Apparently I haven’t used hairspray in quite awhile.

I’m not sure hairspray will work for deodorant, but the general application of deodorant might help me to lengthen the time between hair washing? Just imagine the things we would not have known without this opportunity to spend less time primping and more time watching television? At least I’m not drinking gin for breakfast.

I did properly apply the deodorant this morning.

My sister and her utterly crafty nature must have sensed my itchiness. Perhaps she could no longer endure my whining. Perhaps she was tired of traveling through the innermost recesses of my thoughts and truly wished me “out of here.” (The recesses are a little drafty.)

To brighten my mood, she created and sent me this canvas, which resides on the kitchen counter, reminding me to de-sassify occasionally.

De-sassifying is best done when friends send you travel inanity such as this:

That cracked me up. Un-sassified for today.

One of my quirky friends is growing oranges. (I’m surprised it’s not peppers?) Look closely. This photo is not from a Florida orange grove, but rather her bathroom. I’d say she has a good glass of juice right there.

It’s made me reconsider my bathroom remodel. Perhaps I need to make room for a fruit tree rather than a towel cabinet? Towels are so blasé after all. Everyone expects to find them in a bathroom – but an orange tree – now that’s dazzling!

My bathroom is going to be blasé with a towel cabinet.