Short on Shoes

If I Had My Wish

I’m cranky today.

 

Just saying.

 

It’s grey and rainy and chilly here, my jacket smells like the basement, and my hair won’t stay straight because of the rain.

 

I hate the cold.

 

If I had my way, I’d sleep in and wake without the assistance of an alarm clock going off at 5:30.

 

I’d have a cup of Christopher Elbow’s hot chocolate with big square marshmallows delivered to me (I’m not slogging through the rain in my If I Had My Wish world), the best hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted.

 

I’d order some new shoes from H&M, from the new Jimmy Choo line (which in the real world are not offered online, and there’s not an H&M store in this city – again, cranky).

 

Then I’d have a light lunch delivered to me (again, no slogging here) from Café des Amis, maybe the Salade de Chevre Chaud aux Abricots.  Very Cherry yogurt?  Not this day.

 

After a reading for a while (to allow for digestion, you know), I’d turn on my Ipod, pull out the flour, the sugar, the butter and start baking.  I’d make Apple Cider doughnuts and Gooey Butter Bites.  In my little happy world, I would have been able to find the edible markers so I could make cake pop eyeballs for The Boo’s Halloween party.  I’d make Bacon Cupcakes with Maple frosting for My Little Brother.  I’d make Vanilla Bean Macarons with Dulce de Leche and a Ganache filling.  I would crank out some Apple Handpies so The Sous Chef would pipe down for awhile about me making them.  I’d make Caramel Gingerbread Pumpkin Cheesecake, just because it seems like the thing to do on a fall day.  Bubba would want some chocolate, so I’d throw together a Chocolate Butter Pie.

 

I’m not sure who would really eat all of this food, but it sure would be fun to make.

 

After my baking extravaganza, the kids would come home from school, happy and excited.  Homework?  There’s no homework in my If I Had My Wish world.

 

And wait just one minute, who’s coming through the door?  The Irishman, who’s gotten off early and can actually eat dinner at a normal hour.

 

Knock, knock.  There’s someone at the door in my If I Had My Wish World.  It’s Piropo’s, delivering dinner, 5 Peppercorn Filets, medium rare.

 

After a night filled with no pressure, no meetings, no practice, and nowhere to go, it would be off to bed, refreshed and ready to face the next day.

 

Yes, in my If I Had My Wish world, it would be a good day. 

 

These are the boys.......

that pile on top of me so I won’t get up when they insist I watch something on t.v. that I don’t want to see.

 

that delight in picking me up and throwing me over their shoulder and running around laughing maniacally.

 

that think a mom sandwich is better than a squidge.

 

that think it’s hilarious to act silly in the grocery store so I will be embarrassed.

 

that refuse to let me carry in any groceries, unless I sneak in with them.  When caught, refer to #2.

 

that play games with their sister and pretend they’re having fun just to make me happy.

 

that try to let me down gently when I make something new for dinner that they don't like.

 

that insist on bringing home breakfast for me, even though they won’t be home for an hour and a half and the breakfast will be cold.

 

that make my little heart overflow with love.

 

An Ode to the Water Heater

Oh water heater, water heater,

Where did you go?

I turned on the faucet

And there was no warm flow

I really want to thank you

For picking just the right time

Crapping out on us last night

Made this morning just sublime

We knew you had some issues

A slow persistent leak

But what the hell, what's going on?

It's not like you're antique

I know you picked this moment

'Cause we'd nothing else to do

Alas, how wrong you were

Around here it's a zoo

So after much complaint

I'd like to offer a toast

To a crapass water heater

For giving up the ghost
 

Book Review: The Story Sisters

by Alice Hoffman

 

There are three Story sisters, living in North Point Harbor, Elv, Meg, and Claire.  The three sisters communicate in their own language, Arnish, and speak often of the faery world.  When Elv is 11, she thwarts a kidnapping attempt against her sister Claire, and sacrifices herself as the victim.  The trauma of this event, coupled with an absent and uninterested father, creates havoc in the lives of the Story sisters, resulting in a rebel, an introvert, and a lost soul eager to believe in the goodness of others, only to be proven wrong again and again.

 

This is a story of bravery, loss, redemption, and love.  Several times while reading it I thought, “Oh please God, don’t let that happen to my children.” 

 

I enjoyed the book, although near the end it felt as if there was a hurry up and wrap it up push to it.  But I would definitely recommend it.  You just have to be able to read through some disturbing images of drug use and addiction. 

 

I give this book:

 

 

 

Book Review: Strangers

by Anita Brookner

 

This will be short and sweet, as it was painful enough just to read it. 

Paul Sturgis is a retired man in his 70’s with nothing to do.  He’s never been married, lives alone, and has no friends.  He wanders the streets of London every day, and occasionally visits the widow of his cousin.  Nothing dynamic or exciting happens in this book, as there’s very little action (besides walking) and even less dialogue. 

I’ve not read any of Anita Brookner’s other 24 novels, but I sure hope they were better than this one and included less walking and thinking to oneself.  I appreciate that she took the time to write the story, but this book was not for me.

 

I give this book:

 

 

 

 

Book Review: The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet

by Reif Larsen

 

When I ordered this book, I couldn’t decide if it was a book meant for adults or for the teenage crowd.  It’s definitely for adults.  Don’t get me wrong, there is no sex, no horribly graphic violence, and no drug use.  I was just having difficulty figuring out what audience Larsen was writing for. 

T.S. Spivet is a 12 year-old boy living on a ranch in Montana.  Despite the fact that his father’s a true cowboy, T.S. has dedicated his life to becoming a cartographer.  His mother, whom he calls Dr. Clair, is an entomologist, driven by the relentless pursuit of the elusive tiger monk beetle.   When The Smithsonian calls to tell T.S. he’s won a prestigious award for work he’s submitted in the past, he sets out on his own for Washington D.C., traveling across the country in a Cowboy Condo RV that’s strapped on a flatbed train car. Along the journey, T.S. learns more about himself, his family, and life than he thought existed.

The book is filled with intricate drawings and notations in the sidebar, some serious topographical maps and silly observations.  My favorite side note is the drawing he did of how his father drinks whiskey and how the sips have a rhythm to them (looonng sip, short sip, short sip looong sip)  Also, the fact that there was such a thing as a Hobo Hotline just tickled me.

Although there are moments in the book that just seem too fantastical to jive with the story, it was expertly written and well thought out.  I finished the book with a smile on my face, thinking Reif Larsen must be a freaking genius to know about all of the stuff that’s in this book. 

 

I give this book:

 

 

Actually, I give it 3 1/2 strappy sandals, but I can't figure out how to make half a strappy sandal.  I need help from the Irishman.....

Fromage

The Luau, 2008

The Fiesta, 2009

Some things remain the same no matter how old you get. 

My little brother will always make me laugh, no matter how much we age.

And for this I am grateful.

10-4, over and out, good buddy.

The Curse of the Cake Returns

363 days ago, I wrote here about the problems we've had with birthday cakes around here.  There have been plenty.

I'm pleased to report that I succeeded in executing an unflawed cake for The Sous Chef in June.  Yep, back when I'd taken a break from the old blog. 

I give you the double chocolate cake with raspberry and ganache fillings and ganache frosting.

I've been able to pull off several non-celebratory event cakes with no problem.  It's always the birthday cakes that spell certain disaster.

However, it is my duty to inform you that the curse has returned in the form of an Angel Food Confetti cake.

Seems to be quite a bit shorter than your normal Angel Food cake.

And what's that gelatinous stuff on top?

Oh, the gelatin layer lifts off?

I was banned from the kitchen when the baking process was in progress, so I can't tell you what exactly went wrong. 

Other than the fact that it was a birthday cake.  Which in our house means doomed to be problematic.

Book Review: The Angel's Game

by Carlos Ruiz Zafon

 

After reading The Shadow of the Wind, I fell in love with Carlos Ruiz Zafon.  What's not to love about a book about other books and writers?  The Angel's Game follows the same recipe, even revisiting some of the same old haunts that are included in The Shadow of the Wind (including The Cemetery of Forgotten Books.  Can you imagine something so delicious?).  When you read Zafon's books, his characters become tangible and are so richly written, you feel as if you've known them forever. 

 

The story opens in Barcelona,and follows the life of a promising young writer, David Martin. After a tragic childhood, including a father that hated the fact that his son could read (oh the horror!), David is compelled to write stories and transitions from a newspaper journalist to a bona fide author, writing serial novels under an assumed name.  After several years of pumping out the same drivel, he decides he's had enough and is ready to branch out into the real world of writing.  The only problem is, he's got a contract to write these small novels.  Enter "The Boss."   This is where things all start to go south for David, including his dream of ending up with the woman he's loved since he was a boy.  Danger, intrigue, romance, friendship, and moral dilemmas abound.

 

I love Zafon's writing, words that you can just sink into comfortably, like a well-worn chair that knows the contour of your butt already.  However, The Angel's Game was a little dark for me.  Or maybe I'm just such a big fan of The Shadow of the Wind.  Either way, this book is worth reading, if only to lose yourself once again in a world you know doesn't exist.  Or does it?

 

I give this book a rating of 3 strappy sandals:

 

 

If I Have to be Hanged, I Prefer it to be Briefly - Part II

Continuing the saga of our day trip to the James’ farm, after the tour of the home was finished, Jane set us free to walk around outside and see the other sights (“Take as many pictures outside as you wish!  I’ll even take pictures of you and your family!”). 

 

A tour guide was not needed for this part of the tour, as there were signs explaining what we were looking at.

 

Our first stop was the tomb.  Zerelda (who we remember from yesterday was Jesse’s mother, although his wife was named Zerelda as well) used to sell pieces of Jesse’s tomb stone to tourists.  When she believed she’d taken enough stone from the headstone, she’d gather stones from the creek and pass them off as part of the monument.  The apple didn’t fall far, apparently.

 

 

The next stop was the slave quarters.  The James brothers were bushwhackers, with strong Confederate beliefs.  At one point in time, they had up to 7 slaves.  The little “home” we saw was no bigger than a tool shed that you might buy from Sears.

 

The next point of interest on the James/Samuel farm was a plow that was believed to have been used by a young Jesse.  The sign on the plow said that Jesse had been using this type of plow when confronted by Unionists and questioned on the whereabouts of his brother, Frank.  Frank had joined a gang at this point and was attacking Union soldiers and families.  Jesse had no clue where his brother Frank was, and the Unionists proceeded to slap him around a bit (this is the event that convinced Jesse to join his brother to become part of what was later known as the James-Younger Gang). 

 

The Unionists left, and Jesse ran back to the house, only to find that his stepfather, Reuben Samuels, had been hanged in an attempt to recover information about Frank (so said the sign).

 

This is where the story fell apart for me.

 

Here are the two events that didn’t compute for me: 1) Reuben Samuel had been hanged, and 2) Reuben Samuel was present when his wife’s arm had been amputated.

 

Hold the phone.  How could Reuben be in the room when Zerelda’s arm was cut off (many years after Jesse had joined the bushwhackers) if he’d been hanged?

 

Jane had returned to her hidey hole in the meeting house, and given her confusion over the door question, I wasn’t confident that she’d be able to answer my chronological question. 

 

I asked a woman who had been on the tour with us about the time line of events, and she just looked at me like I was an idiot.  Did no one else see a problem here?

 

We moved on to the Jesse James Bank in Liberty.  I was hoping to find an answer to the time-line issue somewhere in the bank.  When we arrived at the bank, we paid another fee and were greeted by a new “Jane.”  Turns out that the bank hadn’t even been robbed by Jesse James.  There was a possibility that he was outside on his horse, but as he’d recently been shot in the chest, it’s highly unlikely.  However, his brother, Frank, may have been one of the men that was inside the bank.  The James gang did end up taking credit for this heist, the first major bank robbery in the new United States, but there was never any proof that Jesse or Frank were actually involved.

 

 

Ok, what kind of tomfoolery are The Friends of Jesse James up to?  I felt deceived.  Not only had Reuben Samuel possibly been killed, but The Jesse James Bank?  Had NOTHING to do with Jesse James.  Someone had screwed up.  Jane?  Oh Jane?  Could it be possible that both of you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about?

 

Dazed and confused, my bank account $50.00 lighter, the kids and I headed for pizza, thinking maybe the problem was a lack of food.  After being fed, we headed off to a nice long two-hour baseball practice before we could head home and jump on the internet.

 

 

 

Here are some interesting facts  I found out in the course of my research: 

• Jesse’s father, Robert James, was a pastor (how ironic) and helped found William Jewell College
• Although Frank and Jesse James were hailed as “Robin Hoods,” they never shared a single cent with anyone outside their gang
• In the course of the robbery of what is now known as The Jesse James Bank, an innocent William Jewell student was shot and killed by the James Gang while standing on a street corner

 

 

And Most Importantly –

 

Reuben Samuel was briefly hanged in an effort to coerce him into giving up Frank’s location. 

 

So Reuben didn’t die.  But the sign on the plow stated clearly that he’d been hanged.

 

How many people do you know of that have been briefly hanged?  Most people I’ve read about (because I don’t know anybody that’s personally done it) haven’t lived.

 

It seems that a clarification is definitely in order.  Maybe the “Friends of Jesse James” need to do a little internet research.