Christmas Tree Hunting

Per tradition, we have cut our Christmas tree for the year. It's also a tradition for me to take photos and post them here so you can come along on the adventure with us. Let's go!

We always go to a friend's ranch to cut our tree, as the good trees don't grow near our house. I have now discovered the best area for the trees, so we walked right to that area and found a tree within about two minutes.

Camouflaged by nearby trees, but I still saw it.

We left the saw there so we could cut it on our way back to the van and went down the hill to the dirt tank to play.

Also a tradition.

This year, the younger children also climbed this tree.

Poppy is in there somewhere.

We brought the dogs with us.

After suitable play time, back to the tree we went.

Sawing away.

At home, the tree was, as always, deposited in a galvanized metal bucket and anchored with rocks before I started putting the lights on.

I discovered to my dismay that of the four strands of lights I had, one of warm white lights only half worked, one of multi-colored lights didn't work at all, one of bright white lights worked all the way, and I had one strand of multi-colored lights that were fully functional.

Sigh.

Luckily, we get small trees and we put them up against a wall, so I didn't really need to wrap the lights all the way around the whole tree. I wound the bright white lights around the trunk, so the branches would soften their glare a bit, and then used the multi-colored strand and the half-working warmer white lights to kind of zig-zag across the front of the tree.

The children added the ornaments, and . . .

Tree!

Now all it needs are presents under it. Only nine days and counting . . .

It's Woodchuck Song Time!

Today is A.'s birthday! Hooray! That means it's time to honor The Woodchuck Man in song! Hooray!

I've been doing this for a LOT of years now. Thirteen years, to be precise. I guess I used to be better at it, because I used to write multiple verses. Now I consider it an accomplishment to come up with just one lame verse. 

A. does a lot more than the couple of things highlighted in this admittedly somewhat lame song, obviously. But a tradition is a tradition, so here is the one verse for this year's celebration.

(To the tune of "The Candyman Can")

Who can gut the bathrooms,

Then built them back himself?

Who can get an old truck running 

With some parts off the shelf?

The woodchuck man

The woodchuck man can

The woodchuck man can

'Cause he uses what he has and makes it work for him

Happiest of birthdays to A., whose woodchucky ways have served us well for so many years.

Snapshots: A Manatee in a Sweater

In our almost-ghost village, there is a strange cinder block structure that we call the smokehouse. Because that's our best guess as to its original function. The smokehouse is a favorite destination of the children, because you can both go inside of it, and climb on top of it.

Poppy surveying her kingdom from the smokehouse.

Tomorrow is A.'s birthday. Last year I got him an introductory offer for a wine club that included 12 bottles of red wine from different countries. It was one of those things where the first box is like half the price of the others and they're hoping you'll continue receiving the subsequent boxes either because you love getting a dozen bottle of wine every few months, or because you forget to cancel the subscription.

I don't forget to cancel subscriptions, so I just get the introductory one and then stop. I did it again this year. A. loves wine, but won't buy it for himself, so this is a good gift for him. This time there were two extra bottles in with the dozen, plus two stemless wine glasses. 

I had to tell him it was coming because it has to be signed for when it's delivered, so yes, he opened it before his birthday. 

This coming week is the last week of school for the semester. Poppy is the only child having a gift exchange in her class this year. Different teachers handle it differently. Her teacher this year requested a general gift that would be appreciated by any member of the class for a random exchange. These are harder to shop for than when they exchange names and you know which child you're buying for.

I thought maybe I could get a Slinky or a yo-yo. Poppy approved these ideas, and so I entered the daunting Toy Aisles at Walmart.

I don't think I have ever been in these aisles at this store. I was not impressed by what I saw there. 

One of I think six aisles of toys.

I also couldn't find what I was actually looking for in all that junk. However! As I was wandering these aisles, I did spy a little box of mini Magnatiles that were advertised for travel and came in their own tin for carrying. I have never met a child who doesn't like Magnatiles, and as a parent, I appreciate anything that comes in its own storage container. I went with those. Poppy approved. Hooray.

We have decorated the house for Christmas in our own very minimal fashion.

Our few outside lights.

Our small nativity set. Baby Jesus will be put in his cradle on Christmas morning.

The Wise Men wait on the bookcase for their journey to Bethlehem on Epiphany.

My very old chili pepper tree on the table.

Even Coco the Manatee has his Christmas sweater on.

The manatee was purchased in a Dallas airport gift shop. His name is Coco because coconut palms grow where manatees live. I think? Anyway, it was very amusing when we discovered that Poppy's American Girl doll clothing is a perfect fit for him. And a manatee would definitely need a sweater if he came to our northern New Mexico home.

We're going to cut our Christmas tree today--always a good Western adventure--and then the halls will be fully decked for the exciting day.

There you have it! My life, snapshotted.

Friday Food: My Commercial Kitchen

Friday 

Short version: Chili, tortillas with cheese

Long version: I cooked a pot of pinto beans in the morning and then used those, plus ground beef, to make chili. I also added the bag of pureed squash I had thawed a few days before and never used, plus the drippings from cooking hamburgers the day before, and the turkey stock that had been hanging out in the refrigerator.

The tomato product used in the chili was some of a food-service-sized can of concentrated crushed tomatoes that my sister brought when she visited. She and her friend were on their way home from volunteering at a camp, and they brought me all the giant cans of things from the kitchen that would otherwise have been thrown away.

People think of me when they see food in this quantity. I have a reputation.

I used a few cups of that in the chili, put a couple of quart bags of it in the freezer, and saved the rest in the refrigerator for the next day.

I had just enough homemade corn tortillas left from the night before for everyone to have one with melted cheese to dip in their chili.

Saturday

Short version: Spaghetti with sausage meat sauce, peppers and onions, green salad with vinaigrette

Long version: I used the rest of the tomato sauce to make a meat sauce with a couple of pounds of loose Italian sausage, plus roasted garlic from the freezer and dried herbs. The best thing about sausage is that it pretty much is the seasoning, so you don't have to add a lot more to the sauce.

My mom had left a bag of mini bell peppers, which I used with some of the 36 pounds of onions I've been working through.

No, I did not add a digit there. I have 36 pounds of onions because the commodities delivery last month apparently included more onions than anyone in our community can use. Except me! There was a big cardboard bin with many bags of onions on Main Street when we were there for church. They had been there for four days already, it was starting to freeze at night, and I decided anyone who was going to take any probably already had. So I took a dozen bags (leaving like ten still in the bin). 

I've been working on cooking them down and putting them in the freezer since then. I've gotten through maybe half the bags so far. That's where the onions came from that I cooked with the peppers.

Sunday

Short version: Asian-ish pork roast, porky rice, roasted green beans, chocolate pudding

Long version: Last time A. went to the store, he came home with a truly absurd quantity of pork. This store sells what they call "Wow! packs" of meat for a lower price, which in this case was two pork butts packaged together at $1.49/pound.  So you're talking about 25 pounds of meat per package.

A. bought four of those. In case you don't want to do the math, that's a hundred pounds of pork butt.

So, I cooked one.

My typical method for pork butts or picnic roasts is to put them in my very large and deep casserole with nothing with salt and water, cook covered in the oven until I can pull the meat apart, and then season it when I fry it or broil it or otherwise get it crispy. This then results in unseasoned rendered lard, plus the juices.

This time, I re-heated the shredded meat with soy sauce, maple syrup, and vinegar on the pan with the green beans I was roasting. 

Green beans courtesy of my mother the produce bearer.

I used the mostly-de-fatted juices to cook the rice that went with it.

Monday

Short version: Leftover pork, leftover rice with curried split peas, cucumbers

Long version: We had Mass in the village at 5 p.m. for the Immaculate Conception, and I'm mayordoma this month. Our church and school are in the same village, so I just let my kids play on the playground for about half an hour after school before we went to church. 

We got home just after six p.m. I had already made the curried split peas, except for adding the cream. The pork just needed to be fried to re-heat it. I had to get dinner on the table quickly because A., who had been driving the bus, and the basketball player were leaving at 6:45 to go to the other village for Mass, as they had missed the one at our church earlier.

Somewhat hectic, but everyone was fed.

Tuesday

Short version: Leftover chili, tortillas with cheese

Long version: I went straight to First Communion class with Poppy after subbing at the school, so leftovers were definitely the order of the day. Good thing we had chili on hand. An excellent leftover.

Wednesday

Short version: Sausage, mashed potatoes, leftover pork and split peas, green salad with vinaigrette

Long version: I had some leftover pork and curried split peas, but not enough for everyone. That's why I cooked one package of cheddar-jalapeno sausages. And I made mashed potatoes. 

Everyone had the potatoes and split peas. A. and eldest son had the sausage. The others had the pork.

Thursday

Short version: Roasted chickens, potatoes and onions, roasted or raw broccoli

Long version: I thawed two of the roosters we butchered awhile ago and then just cooked them with salt, pepper, thyme, and olive oil.

I don't know if they were actually roasted because I cooked them at 325 degrees. Does it have to be high heat to be considered roasting? Maybe they were just baked. Anyway, I did that because these were pretty small and the home-raised ones don't have a lot of fat on them, so I didn't want to dry them out. They came out well.

I really dislike carving chickens, though, and especially home-raised chickens. They're much harder to cut apart because their joints are stronger.

Taking a break partway through carving the second chicken.

I had my big stainless steel skillet still on the stove from cooking down some of the many onions earlier in the day, so I just put some sliced potatoes in there with another sliced onion, plus olive oil, and stuck that in the oven with the chicken.

Ditto the broccoli. It went in the cast iron skillet I had cooked eggs in, with olive oil. I did turn the heat up after the chicken was out, though, to get that a bit more browned.

Refrigerator check:

I bought a LOT of cream in advance of Christmas. Walmart always runs out if I wait too long.

Okay, your turn! What'd you eat this week?

On Singing

My brother's birthday was the past weekend. We have a tradition in our family of calling on the birthday and the whole family singing to the birthday person over the phone. I spent all day Friday reminding myself to call and sing when everyone was home after dinner . . . only to forget after dinner.

Boooo.

But! When I texted my brother to apologize, he said no worries, he had been at work anyway (he's an airline pilot) and wouldn't be celebrating his birthday until Sunday. Which meant we had another opportunity to sing.

To make certain that I wouldn't forget this time, I made a note to myself and stuck it on the refrigerator with a magnet.

I suppose a normal person would have used a note in their phone or something.

I sent this to my brother, and he responded that he thought I should keep it up there all the time, like a motivational "Live, Laugh, Love" reminder.

One thing I do not need to be reminded to do, however, is sing.

I love to sing. I do it all the time, often spontaneously. I have a pretty good voice, an incredible storehouse of songs in my head, and a remarkable ability to reproduce a melody. I sing a lot of songs from when I was a kid: songs from the radio, songs I learned in school, songs my family sang. 

I was very happy when our current priest instituted singing at our Masses again. I remember many of the hymns from my childhood and I sing those, too.

My mother is a singer and always sang in church choirs, as did my sister. I did, too, when I was younger, although I never learned to read music or sing parts well like they can. 

I feel like this is not as common as it used to be, however. Both A. and I were required to participate in elementary school choirs around 5th grade. I have never heard of this now, even in places much larger than here. A couple of my children are able to carry a tune, but not because of any formal training.

Do people not sing as much anymore? What do you think? Do you sing? Do your kids?

Snapshots: Back Home

There have been a lot of photos of New Orleans lately. But we're back home now, and back to our regular High Plains photos.

Like so.

Our priest and his brother came over Sunday for our belated Thanksgiving feast. We were sitting in the living room after dinner while the kids played Taboo, and Father picked up the little drawing LED board that was next to the couch. He drew on it for at least fifteen minutes. I couldn't imagine what he could be drawing that would take so long, but I was appropriately impressed when he showed us the finished product.

This is what he was looking at.

And this is what he drew.

I was baking bread on Tuesday anyway, so I made a loaf of bread for the FFA fundraiser auction at school the next day. Since it was for an auction, I made the fancy loaf that people seem to expect sourdough to be.

These round loaves look cool, but are very impractical for sandwiches.

We had our first snow of the season on Wednesday. I had thought it was just going to be a dusting, but it turned out to be a couple of inches.

Good thing I bought new boots last spring.

I didn't miss breaking ice in the water troughs.

Snowy sheep mobbing their hay.

There you have it! My life, snapshotted.

New Orleans Day 4

Did I begin the day with coffee before dawn and a walk when the sun came up? But of course.

A house spotted on the walk.

We didn't have any scheduled activities this day, so I let everyone sleep in a little bit and we left the house around 10 a.m. We had arranged to go visit my aunt and uncle, who live in Covington. This is a suburban town across the Causeway.

The Causeway is a giant bridge that spans the entirety of Lake Pontchartrain. It's about 24 miles long, which means you drive on it for a very long time and it really feels like you're just out there in the middle of the water. It's pretty fun, although I wouldn't want to break down on it.

We did not break down and made it to my aunt and uncle's house. We visited with them for a little bit before going to my cousin's house nearby. She has a granddaughter Poppy's age and my aunt wanted the two girls to meet.

After that, my aunt and uncle wanted to take us out to lunch, so they started driving to the restaurant and we followed in our car. 

This is when I got a message from our Airbnb host that the cleaners were at the house getting it ready for the next guests and that some of our personal effects were still there.

Well, yes. ALL our personal effects were still there, because we weren't leaving until the next day. But apparently I had made a mistake in my booking and this day was the last day I had reserved.

*&$*#@!!!

That was what was in my head as I frantically messaged our host, trying to figure out what I needed to do. I was expecting a big fee, all our stuff thrown out, etc. Instead, when I apologized and told her how sorry I was to have caused so much trouble, she was very understanding and told me the cleaning crew would collect all our things and store them in a locked room until we could get there to pick them up.

I felt very bad about this, because of course our belongings were scattered around, since we hadn't planned on having to pack up until that night. I had, thankfully, asked the kids that morning to pick out their clothing for the next day and put everything else in their bags, so their rooms weren't too bad. It was still a lot of random stuff for the cleaners to gather up, though.

By the time I had had this exchange with our host and checked to make sure that yes, our flight and rental car return were indeed for the next day, we were at the restaurant. Our Airbnb host had told me there was no rush to get back to the house, but I felt like we should get there as soon as possible. I made my apologies to my aunt and uncle and we went right back across the Causeway to New Orleans.

On our way back to the house, I made a hasty new reservation on Airbnb. I had originally thought I would just get rooms at a hotel near the airport, as we were flying out the next day. However, A. encouraged me to try to find another house in New Orleans. That way we could actually enjoy our last afternoon and night. Hotels are not enjoyable for our family, so I took his point and got back onto Airbnb.

Within the parameters I had set for number of beds and cost, there were only a couple of options. I chose a renovated shotgun house and made the reservation. So at least we had somewhere to sleep that night.

We arrived back at the house when the cleaning lady was still there, so we had a chance to look around the house and get anything she had missed. She actually got almost everything. She had even bagged up the food in the refrigerator so we could take that with us. She was very nice about all of this, assuring us that Venus was in retrograde, and that was probably why this had happened. I gave her a large tip, we stuffed our very disorganized belongings in the car, and we set off for our new house.

It was only about half an hour away, and we couldn't get into it for over an hour. It was now about 2 p.m. None of us had eaten lunch yet. I had been promising my children po'boys for four days and had not yet delivered. A quick search on my phone revealed that one of the most famous po'boy places in the city, Domelise's, was only half a mile from our new house. It closed in an hour, so we went directly there.

Po'boys are like sub sandwiches. They are made on French bread, with various toppings, often seafood, served dressed--with lettuce, tomato, pickles, mayonnaise--or undressed, and hot or cold. They're best, in my opinion, dressed and heated. And the bread is miles better than most subs. I love them.

This place was a real hole in the wall institution, clearly.

Sandwiches being made above a sketch of the building.

I ordered two ham and cheese, two shrimp, and two oyster po'boys, plus five Barq's root beers, which is local to New Orleans. Our sandwiches were ready within about fifteen minutes. We sat outside to eat them, as the restaurant was closing.

After that, we parked in front of our new house. This turned out to be on Tchoupitoulas Street, a main parade route for the Mardi Gras parade. We still had about half an hour before we could get into the house, so we walked around the neighborhood for a bit until we could get in.

Hello, new home.

Shotgun houses are particular to New Orleans. They are so named because they are long and narrow, have no hallways, each room leads directly into the next, and theoretically, you can stand at the front door and shoot a gun from there to the back without the bullet going through any walls.

My children were disappointed that this house didn't have the doors lined up, so the shotgun test wouldn't have worked. It was still a cool old house, though.

This was the first bedroom, which was between the kitchen/living room and the next bedroom.

After getting all our stuff inside and re-organizing it all, and then settling the children in front of a documentary about bayous on one of the three televisions, A. and I realized we could actually leave and go have a drink in a bar. Like a date.

This house was in the Riverside district of New Orleans, which meant were a LOT of bars to choose from. We passed a couple that were just standard bars with middle-aged regulars hanging out drinking. This was not really the scene I was going for. Instead we went to a fancy bar associated with a steakhouse, where it was quiet and we could get nice cocktails and actually talk.

This was vodka, St. Germain (an elderflower liqueur) lime, and cranberry juice. It was very good.

This was only about half a mile from our house, so we were gone about an hour. On our walk back, we happened to go past a warehouse that had an open door and lights on. We paused to look in, because it was pretty clear that they were making Mardi Gras floats in there. We agreed we should bring the children back to see it, so as soon as we got back to the house, we gathered them all up and walked back to the warehouse.

We stopped in the open doors just to look, but a sculptor named Benny saw us there and invited us in. When he learned we don't live there, he took us on a tour and explanation of the various works of art in progress. He would not have done this if we were local, because we were seeing the parade floats for the coming Mardi Gras, which are supposed to be secret.

For that reason, I will not show you the couple of photos I took, but it was very cool. He explained the themes and how the floats are constructed from paper mache on a frame of two by fours.

After that we went back to the house and spent some time sitting on the front porch, eating potato chips and watching the traffic go by on Tchoupitoulas Street before going to bed.

The next day wasn't too early of a start. We were in the car by 7:45 a.m. to get to the airport. I wasn't sure how long it would take to return the car* and get through security the day before Thanksgiving, so I made sure we had lots of time. 

Everything was so fast, though, that we ended up sitting at our gate for about two hours. Plenty of time for a few more beignets from the airport Cafe Du Monde.

Not as good as Jackson Square, but happily eaten nonetheless.

Our flights and drive home were uneventful, if long. We had a wonderful time, but everyone was very glad to make it home.

* I had a few minutes of panic when I left my purse in the rental car and had to run back up to the car to search for it. Thankfully, the car hadn't been moved yet. Unthankfully, I first looked in the wrong car because it was exactly the same as our rental car, same color and everything. When I eventually realized my mistake and looked in the right car, I found my purse right away, but it was a bad few minutes.