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December 31, 2002
NYC New Year
Happy New Year to all of my faithful readers. I hope you have a blast and make it home (at least somebody's) in one piece. As for me, I am raising a glass to 2002.
Posted by mermu at 06:22 PM | Comments (0)
December 29, 2002
Back in NYC; Another Christmas Miracle
The trip to the airport at 5:30 in the morning was harrowing. We were in a time crunch. It didn't help that mom brought up the last time I took her to the airport and we were also in a crunch. She almost missed her flight but not quite. I ended up missing mine. The skycap outside said I was too late and had to go inside to check my luggage and get a new flight. Holy Hell! This could be really bad. Rhett would be waiting at the airport and it's his birthday. Lord, I was just kidding about wanting to make the Friday night funfest with Chad and Matt. Get me on that Plane!!! I wasn't actually late, the guy was an ass. I was close, it's true, but I knew when I was waiting in line that this guy was a jerk and was going to give me shit. I should have gone to the other one, but no...I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Did you do this on purpose mom??? I was determined not to completely panic. I got in the now huge line for the inside check-in. It seems that every boy scout troup and band go on a trip on the 26th. I was mentally planning out my potential options and frantically dialing my aunt Margaret who works at Continental. There wasn't much she could do, but if the worst happened perhaps I could score a pass for the President's club. The inside line, though three times as long, seemed to go much faster than the skycap's. The woman at the counter took great care of me and put me on a flight that would land less than an hour later than my original. The plane I took was huge. I got an aisle seat with its own video screen and remote console. I spent the trip playing video games and watching the movie Mr. Deeds. I called Rhett and left a message about the flight change before we took off. I even had a chance to pick up a last minute birthday present for my Primary Boyfriend that I thought was perfect for him.
This is one of the little ways that I know God takes good care of this daughter. I may never win the lottery, but I am definitely looked after. Who and I mean WHO? gets a flight for an hour later after missing your flight the day after Christmas? I guess I know the answer to that one. I do.
How many spankings, Mr. Butler?
So I landed at noon and Mr. Butler was waiting. I gave him his present and we waited for my luggage. When we got to the car he gave me one of my presents, a DVD version of "White Christmas". It's my favorite Christmas movie and I had yet to see it this year. The 26th was also Rhett's birthday. I'll let him tell you how old he is if he chooses. I will say he is younger than I and therefore, has to listen to me and do what I say. So he got Christmas and Birthday all at once but I did have presents specifically assigned to each event. His birthday wasn't as wild as I had hoped it would be. It is hard to have a Birthday so close to the holidays. I see that. Even if you're game to go, it can be hard to find the energy. Rhett wasn't too keen on getting his spankings either. Such a tough guy, but I am older and he has to do what I say and if you don't get your spankings the next year could be really tricky. Next year I may have to hire a big strong guy to do it for me though.All in all, this has been a Christmas to remember for many reasons. Next is New Year's and then, finally, the Epiphany party and it's all done for another year. I will put away my new Christmas stuff (Still can't find my box of stuff in Texas.), remove my beautiful tree and get set for the tasks and adventures that await me in 2003. I wonder what my resolutions will be.
Posted by mermu at 02:28 PM | Comments (2)
Myrtle
When I first saw my Grandmother this Christmas she had this weird brown flake on her cheek. It looked like it was a piece of plastic or some flaky food that was stuck there. I started to wipe it off as I asked Grandma what it was. It turned out to be some kind of growth. She slapped my hand and said, "Don't touch it! It's fine. It's been there for awhile. It doesn't bother me and I don't bother it and I am not going to a doctor!!!"
To which I promptly replied, "Well, I can see you have gotten this question before and you seem pretty steadfast in your position so okay."
Apparently the thing had been around for awhile and all of her 8 children had harassed her about having it looked at. After asking her with whom she was sleeping (there was a premium for sleeping space this night) she replied, "Just me and God." So I asked her if I could bunk with her. She nodded the affirmative and I said, "Good. Then it will be just you, me, God and your friend there on your cheek." She laughed at my irreverence as she so often does and the offending mark was all but forgotten.
It's amazing the thoughts you can process in the course of a brief conversation. Grandma has not been to a doctor in probably 40 some odd years. She says she doesn't like going to them because their diplomas never say if they were A, B or C students. She has a point. I also think she is of an age where she could make peace with the direst of consequences when an unusual mark makes a home on her person. While I might not be quite ready to see her go, perhaps she is ready to take the next step where macular degeneration and worn out ears don't matter...if that step comes to her. So in that briefest of moments I tried to steel myself for whatever may come, say a prayer for a good end, whatever that may be, give Grandma some peace about the situation and make the best of it.
Later that night, at Kathleen's Christmas Eve feast, I informed Grandma that I had named her mysterious guest "Myrtle". It seemed like a Myrtle for some reason and if it was going to be around for awhile it should have a name other than "that thing on your cheek". She replied, "Bullshit" and laughed. Score!! I had gotten the famous curseword from Grandma. My mother who makes a pasttime out of squeezing such mostly forgotten profanity from my grandmother would be jealous. I wasn't even really trying either. I scored another bullshit later on, again without trying, but I forgot why. The name Myrtle took and soon all of my aunts, uncles, and cousins now referred to the pox with said moniker throughout the night's festivities.
A Christmas Miracle (Myrtle's Goodbye)
The next day at Mass and true to her inherently mysterious nature, Myrtle left Grandma's face without so much as a by-your-leave. She had been keeping house there for at least a year so her rapid departure was somewhat of a surprise. Perhaps Myrtle just wanted a little love and attention, or identity to say the least. Once given, she felt her duty was done and left for age-ier pastures. Perhaps God heard my brief prayers and whispered to Myrtle to leave a good woman so loved by her progeny alone. A snotty woman from our family's past in a fit of ire and trying to offend once gave us the title "God's Family". I was barely born at the time. She was meaning to insult but it backfired. We took to that title as truth. It's hard to refute. We have had our misfortunes to be sure but in over thirty years we have, as far as I can recall, only lost one of us. And the important things like health, family and love have all been stored in abundance in our family coffers. So Goodbye Myrtle, whatever you actually were. Perhaps we will see you again, but for now I am glad you are gone. Nothing personal.Posted by mermu at 12:57 PM | Comments (3)
Back on the Range
My trip to Texas has come and gone and again, I am amazed at how quickly everything went. I did something a little unusual this year. Since Rhett's birthday was the 26th of December, I opted to fly back in time to celebrate. I flew to Dallas on the 19th and flew out of Houston on the 26th to arrive by noon on the 26th. I think I will do that for mom's Christmas' in the future. I used to stay until after mom's birthday but that does seem like it's a long trip. I end up not doing much of anything but waiting until the 28th after Christmas. It was also nice to not have to drive back to Dallas to get on a plane.
Christmas and Eve
Christmas Eve was a blast in Houston. My aunt hosted over 30 family and friends of family for the event. We had ham, green beans and potatoes and the traditional Cherries Flambee for dessert. I was really pleased to get to hang out with Uncle John's extended family again too. His son Chad is very amiable and great to chat with and his nephew Matt is really cute. Twenty something and a pilot. He's not as naturally chatty as Chad but very cute. Jenny, my newly married sister, even extoled his virtues at Xmas Dinner. Back off Jenny! You have a hubby and a cake plate that doubles as a punch bowl. I am the one in frivolous fall dating and even though Rhett has now been raised to "primary" boyfriend status there is room in the corral for secondaries. Seriously, both Matt and Chad seem like they would be great fun at a party and I am glad to have them in my extended-extended family. Matt's parents and sister are also quite fun. I would really love to see more of them in the Big City that I love so much. Chad even invited me (unbeknownst to Matt) to party with them on Friday night. Alas I should be back in NY by then to celebrate the Primary's b-day. I also think Chad probably regretted that invite the moment it was out. It sounded like it was more of a boy's night and I would probably have screwed up their collective chi. Although you never know. I am fun at a party. It was nice to know that I had a contingency in case the White New York Christmas I missed put a kink in my plans for my return trip. Aunty Felicia cooked Christmas Day dinner and it too was scrumptious. There were perhaps 20 or so people for dinner this day. A smaller party but still lots of fun.My Texas Christmas was a great time. Not to sound too mercenary but, I came away with some wonderful presents. Thanks to everyone who put me on their Christmas list. Another great treat was having my cousins Kris and David there for Christmas. I haven't seen them for over 10 years. Time and tide and weird events stood between us. I am so proud of them. While they still have alot of challenges they face they are at the core really good kids and I think they are smarter than even they realize. I hope that we can all now keep in touch with each other. And to cap it off, I now am the rightful inheritor of the equivalent of Jenny's smoking dog. Grandma is bequeathing to me the wooden, monogrammed pen and pencil set her brother Thomas gave her one Christmas. I'll tell you the story about it later.
Posted by mermu at 12:31 PM | Comments (2)
My Holiday Season
Christmas seems to have come and gone in a rush. Here is an update on my comings and goings during the season so far.....
Parties
I went to a few parties this Christmas. A favorite was the Pangolin party. I left that company in October and hadn't really seen anybody since. Everyone was in good spirits both literally and figuratively. After the official party we went down the block to a really festive pub on Avenue B. I have a feeling that during the year this place was nothing special at all. This Christmas season however, they transformed this average pub space into a Yuletide Fantasy. It was beautiful. Can't remember the name though. I do remember, Ian, a lawyer of some sort who had this uncanny knack for creating poetry off the cuff. He created a lovely verse around a word I had given him..."silk". He was taking his friends, who were in the process of getting out of bad relationships out for some Christmas cheer and hope.
Tex in the City Christmas
Our TITC party was Wednesday the 18th. We had a blast. We decided to put together some VIP gift bags for some of our more consistent supporters. They turned out really well. We had great gifts from Tequila Herradura, Origins, and Izod among others. I also made Texas Chocolate Pecan cookies for each bag. That was an undertaking I can tell you. It wouldn't have been so bad except in the second batch I had cracked a bad egg into the butter mixture. SHIT! Have you ever smelled a rotten egg? Disgusting. It looked like a black heart wrapped in gooey brown stuff that belongs more on a pyrotechnic creature then a cookie mix. I had to chuck that stuff out the front door and in the garbage, open a window in the kitchen and start over. Fortunately I had enough ingredients for another. It was well worth the efforts as I think they made a really nice addition to the gift. Everybody had fun and we even met some new people who had heard about us 3rd or 4th party from our article in the FW Star Telegram. Rhett and Fred were there. Rhett was looking particularly dashing in a suit. Damn his handsome hide. I can see why Scarlett ended up with Ashley. There are pitfalls to dating a handsome man even if it is frivolous Fall. Fortunately for us, Frivolous Fall Dating has given way to Wild Winter Wantonness and I am not in the mood to draw lines in the sand which neither one of us could cross at the moment. Rhett showed up in his dashing suit and handed me my first Christmas present. It is a book of Texas cooking which features recipes from some of the hottest restaurants in Texas. At first I was a little nonplussed. Why give a Texas girl a book about cooking she should already kind of know? Then I opened it up and fell in love with it. It's the perfect gift for me. A link to my heritage. Now whenever I get lonesome for a big, texas sky or a wildflower or a tipped hat and a "howdy" I can whip out my cookbook and make some true Texas comfort food for myself and the people I have grown to love in my Northeastern home. It seems all of the gifts Rhett got me for Christmas were perfect for me...if not a little surprising. Merry Christmas Rhett. I hope you like mine just as well.
Posted by mermu at 12:03 PM | Comments (8)
Changes in the "Recipe"
So the tamales are made and true to the tradition they are like gold in my family. They still don't taste exactly like my grandmother's but they are a brilliant start on the path. I would put my first time tamales against anybody else's first time tamales any day...even my grandmother's or a certain cocky Polish Dutch person who thinks he can compete. The news of our tamale adventure didn't take long to get around my father's clan. That night, while partying at Billy Bob's with Tex in the City, I got a call from my Uncle Richard congratulating us on our accomplishment. He lives in California. My Aunt Helen was so proud of us. She was worried that the tamale tradition would end with her as none of the other cousins had really showed an interest in learning the whole process. No need to worry now, Tia. I now feel like I could make them with anybody.
I did make some alterations and changes in the process. Every cook has her own way. We watched Moulin Rouge on my brother's 57 inch television while rolling. My grandmother would have never done that. Also, instead of ugly and embarassing hairnets which was a must in my Grandmother's tamale-making kitchen, I opted for a much cooler and still effective bandana look. Red and Blue. We looked like real vatos. The word on the street is that tamales are really good. I am so glad. Next year, they will be even better.
Posted by mermu at 11:40 AM | Comments (3)
What Did I Do 2
So it's time to mix the masa and I am not 100% confident that I can get the texture just right. Helen says that it should be shiny and not stick to your hand when you pat it. Jennifer and Mom did an excellent job of mixing and mashing and none of us even blinked when we added 2lbs of melted Crisco to both batches of masa. After my Mom and Sister's hands got good and gooey and their respective mixtures looked as shiny as I thought they could possibly be, we decided to start rolling the tamals. My Dad had to go to work. My Brother had a mission on some computer game...(I know. I don't know where we went wrong when we raised him...could have been the fact that he had three moms when he grew up...(me, my sister, and our mother) and he is now in a constant state of rebellion.) My Dad's wife said, "I hate the rolling part" and exited post haste. So that left me and Jenny as primary rollers along with my mom to do as much as she could. UGH....UGH!!! This is why you have entire neighborhoods of women making them. Jenny, Mom and I rolled somewhere along the lines of 390 tamales...Something like 32 dozen. It was a job I can tell you. We put the first batch of tamals on the stove to steam at about 7:30pm. They would be ready at 1:30am. The second and last batch start steaming at 10:30pm and would be ready at about 4:30am. It took about 3 hours to roll 190 tamales...that's six hours for both batches. Get the hoja, masa and stew and roll. With a few secret family recipe steps for good measure.
After the rolling, everything was steaming and I ended up playing the waiting game alone. Jenny went along with Mom to her house to go to bed. Not trusting myself to get up out of a comfortable bed in a different room, I slept for the second night on the futon next to the kitchen. My brother was instructed to wake me up at 1:30am. He was still kicking bad guy ass on the computer. I would worry about the 4:30am tamals when the time came.
Frankly Rhett, you May have saved my Tamale Christmas
I woke up out of my exhausted slumber to the familiar tunes of SaintSeans, my signature ring for Rhett at 1:30 am on the dot. He and Fred were at another wild party and he called to either a)say hello because even though he was having a good time I am still more fun b) give me the scoop on all my competition at the party (what can I say? It's the hassle of dating a handsome guy) or c) rub it in that he was partying it up big time while I was suspended in Tamale Purgatory (Will they turn out or not?) or some combination of the three. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that he called, without realizing it, at exactly the time I needed to be up to take care of my precious endeavor. We chatted for a bit and then I painstakenly took out each hot and steamed tamale and put them in pans so they could cool. I am a little concerned that the masa isn't completely cooked enough but I know that Aunt Helen said 6 hours, they would cook more both in the cooling process and when reheating and I was too tired to stay up and worry about it. About an hour later I was back on the futon asleep. 4:33am rolls around and my brother comes out and asks if I am awake. I say yes and reach for my phone to check the time. I realize that I have 2 missed calls that most likely had something to do with my brother coming to wake me. They were from Rhett and at just the right time, again without him realizing it, for me to take out the second batch of tamales. So I call Rhett back (He had only called about 3 minutes before.) and chatted with him some more. He and Fred were on the way home. It was 5:30 his time and they had a blast. I got up to take care of the rest of my tamals and then fell asleep with wishes of beautiful and tasty tamales just like grandmother's and a big unsightly wart that would mysteriously grow on Rhett's chin so he wouldn't be quite so desireable to the other ladies.Posted by mermu at 10:43 AM | Comments (3)
December 21, 2002
What Did I Do?
Once there was a general consensus the tamale meat was spiced correctly, we began mixing the masa. The stew meat is one of the crucial points where it gets tricky having more than one cook in the kitchen. This was obvious when I talked to my two aunts about the tamale process. Both had different ingredients. One: "I have never put a jalepeno in tamales in my life!!!" The other: "You can cut up a little jalepeno to give it a little kick." For my tamales, I was very gung ho for adding lots more chili. Dad and his wife where not so much. In the end we settled for a compromise; the color looked good and I could always sneak some more in here and there. As we were stewing the meat, my Dad also began cleaning the hojas. This is a very important. My Grandmother insisted on soaking and cleaning the hojas three times before rolling the tamals. We bought hojas from the Sak n Save and they were beautiful. Nice big husks that were pretty clean to begin with. Still, we soaked and cleaned them three times.
The masa was tricky for me. I had only a vague recollection of what the texture should be.
Posted by mermu at 09:34 AM | Comments (2)
Making Gold
Minions in a Stew
Well I finally got some minions to help out. They even brought me breakfast from Taco Cabana and Chai from the Starbucks. I have to say my sister is a good tamale minion. My mom....not so much. I think her "princess gene" is emerging. She does have a nice haircut and she did make some good coffee though. So Dad, his wife Diane, Stepan and I have pulled the fat from the meat, shred it, put some spice together and the big pot of tamale goodness is stewing on the stove. I think it tastes just about right. Once the spices stew and settle in, I think we will have a scrumptious end-product. Oddly enough, my Dad is being squeamish about putting some heat in the pot. I am all about the heat; that little bite at the end of every bite that reminds you you are alive and have a sinus cavity. I love that! I think my aunts are all a little tickled that we have decided to take on this project. If nothing else, these tamales will be good for a story.I am a little worried that we won't have enough. Based on the meat we bought, we are thinking we have enough for 20 dozen so far. It's amazing how 27lbs of pork doesn't look like much in a 35 quart pot. Can't talk much today and there is so much to say. I am, for the first time ever, commanding a squad of tamale makers. When she was alive, my Grandma Lucio would make tamales once a year at Christmas. All the women in the family (except my cousin Diana who I think hates kitchens completely) and in her circle of friends would spend a weekend cooking meat, seasoning, boiling and cleaning hojas, making masa, the chili mix and finally the tamales. It's a simple recipe but very labor intensive. My Dad says that Grandma would pre-prep for weeks. Stocking up on the meat, and masa when it was on sale. Pre-boiling and freezing the meat. We are going to try to do it in a weekend but we are only making 40 or 50 dozen instead of the "gross gross" that Grandma would make. That sounds like alot but tamales are like gold and crack all rolled into one. Valuable and very addictive. Grandma would freeze her stash (All the tamale-helpers would also need a stash as well.) and give them out throughout the year like hugs and kisses. Tamales were love and favor and if you got a dozen when visiting you would be the envy of all the clan...if they knew. Like Grandpa Leo's Ice Creams, you had to keep your tamale treats a secret else all hell would break loose.
Because my Mom, Dad, brother, sister, and I lived far away most of the time , and also because of the delicate balance of the Lucio/Karl Christmas schedule I never really got to participate in the tamale-making fest while my Grandmother was alive. And then there was college and oats to sow. I paid a large price for such youth and abandon. Before I realized it, my Grandma was gone. She sat down to rest amongst her myriad of flora and fauna in a greenhouse her sons had built for her, held her hand to her heart and breathed her last. Fortunately for me though, my Grandma had a plan that would grant me a reprieve. And when she died she bequeathed all of the secret recipes and rituals of making a Guadelupe Lucio tamale to my Aunt Helen. Mi Tia Helen was always a pretty good cook, but I know that, somewhere in the space after she died and before she left the earth, Grandma gave my Aunt Helen her culinary gift. Helen, in turn, is sharing that gift with me.
So here I am at my baby brother's house spinning pork into Gold. Aunt Helen in Wichita Falls is just a cell phone away for last minute instruction and encouragement. I am having a great time. Every now and then I imagine I can hear my Grandmother giggling at my efforts and occasionally admonishing me to wash my hands and be sure to clean the hojas at least twice. If I can pull this off, I know that I will have the recipes and the secrets too and will, one day, be able to share them with my nieces, nephews, and maybe, someday children.
Boiled
I spent last night boiling the meat. Dad bought a bucket steamer and a 35 quart pot/steamer for the occasion. The 35 quart-er was perfect for cooking the meat. I got about 15 pounds of pork in that puppy! Putting a little of my own panache on the recipe, I rubbed the meat in salt, pepper, chili and stuff before setting it to boil. I slept on the couch in the den but since my brother has an open kitchen I imagined it was like sleeping in the kitchen like the old days. Got to watch my meat! At about 1:30am my brother woke me up and said, "The meat! What's wrong with the meat?" JERK! I spring to life ready to risk life and limb to rescue my bounty only to find that it is just fine. I turn down the heat and fall back asleep. I wake up, on my own at 6:53am. The meat is boiled and cooling; ready for shredding. I think it looks right....Now I need minions to do my bidding and bring me breakfast. My brother only has cookies in his house. Doesn't he know that I have a big, Fat, Gay wedding to prepare for?
Posted by mermu at 09:33 AM | Comments (4)
December 14, 2002
Look out for them, Leo
I have four friends or acquaintances whose grandfathers have died this month. It's a little disconcerting. I never knew my grandfathers. They were dead before I was born. Though blessed with two very unique and strong-willed grandmothers, I often wondered what it might have been like to go fishing with Grandpa or drink lemonade on the porch listening to stories about the old days. Wilford Brimley always made Grandfathers seem so pleasant and supportive. I missed not having mine. I don't really know much about my dad's Dad. My father never really talks too much about him and any stories I know seem directly related to how my Grandma dealt with him or the kids. I feel much closer in spirit to my mom's Dad, Leo. He was a piano player and an avid card player. Most of the pictures I have seen of him he is smiling. My mom told me a story once about how he would on occasion sneak her out of the house. Just the two of them would go for an afternoon drive and then a tryst with Chocolate Ice Cream at the English Pharmacy. This one-on-one was no small feat for a man who had 8 kids who were all under foot. He would take my mom for Ice cream and upon going back to the house, Leo would tell her that she mustn't tell her brothers or sisters because they would be jealous. Mom, feeling like the princess and understanding that her "favorite child" status would only hurt her siblings' feelings, steadfastly obeyed.
I would have really enjoyed spending childhood afternoons at the piano, just Leo and I, singing and playing jazz tunes. "Missed the Saturday dance..." Or going for Mint Chocolate Chip at the Braum's. I just know I would be his favorite grandchild. I just know it. I kind of like to think he's looking out for me up there or wherever "There" is. Leo, it seems you are getting alot of company these days. Grand old men who may or may not know what "trump" is. I know you'll teach them. So take care of those boys, Grandpa.
For the record, years after my grandfather died and his children had grown to adults with children of their own, my aunts and mother discovered that Leo spirited each of them away at one time or another for a secret ice cream afternoon. It seems they were all his favorite. I love that story.
Posted by mermu at 01:36 AM | Comments (7)
December 13, 2002
Now who's the Tough Guy
Poor Mr. Bloomberg has been playing rough with the rest of the city and a transit strike looms. This means that buses and subways in and out of the city will cease to function. Bloomie's plan is to put stringent rules on car commuters and close off parts of the city's streets. If you ask me the poor guy is learning the hard way that government is not like a company. You can't just fire citizens if they don't kowtow to your every whim. In general, I think the guy has no clue how to run a government. He has so much money he doesn't realize that taking so little as 2.3% out of some working stiff's paycheck can mean alot. To make matters worse, I think he hates his job.Unlike some idiots in office though, I think Bloomie realizes he sucks at it.
I have to say it's all a little exciting. This is government by the people for the people at its best. These workers are letting it all hang out for what they believe and are excercising their rights as Americans despite the sacrifices that may be imposed upon them. This kind of a thing could cripple the city in very weird ways and, should it actually happen, would be a historic moment. Part of me doesn't believe it will actually happen. No subways in NYC. Come on! Still, I have a contingency plan or two and may be getting really chummy with my bicycle in the next couple of days. BTW, if you read the linked yahoo article about the injunction on the strike, don't count out those transit workers yet. You never get anywhere in NYC by trying to bulldoze a big group of New Yorkers. Come on, Bloomie. I learned that the first week I was here.
Posted by mermu at 08:30 PM | Comments (0)
Plumbers Need Love Too
Rhett and I had an interesting conversation last weekend while having an idyllic brunch at The Cupping Room Cafe. My friend Deborah is dating a guitarist and I mentioned how sexy musicians are. Rhett got a little bit in a huff and demanded to know why. What makes them so special? I immediately giggled and responded that they know how to use their hands and they have rhythm. Rhett wasn't buying it. He thinks that's all just Musician Make-out Marketing.
Rhett: These guys don't have anything on Plumbers and Mechanics.
Me: Plumbers and Mechanics?!!? Have you ever seen a man play rhythm guitar?
Rhett: That's nothing. You should see what my uncle can do with a basin wrench and some copper wire.
Hmm....Is he single?
Posted by mermu at 08:15 PM | Comments (2)
The White Stuff
We had our first real snow last week. It even kept Deb and the Gang in SC a few hours longer than expected. While I am sorry my friends were inconvenienced...IT SNOWED!!! It snowed! It snowed! It snowed! It snowed!
Posted by mermu at 08:07 PM | Comments (0)
Heavy on the Lawyers, Light
Heavy on the Lawyers, Light on the Firemen
My friend Deborah and her pals from South Carolina came back for their Christmas visit. I have to say I had a great time. I think we were all subconsciously expecting it to be just as fun as the trip they made on Labor Day though. While we had a great time this time around, we had it in a different way. I didn't see too many of the Firemen and Policemen this time either. But I did see alot of underwear at The Duplex on Sunday night, rode in a limo, sang in a piano bar, and had another excuse to eat at La Mela which is, in my opinion, the only place to eat Italian in the city. I had a great time pal-ing around with Russell and Deb, Kambri and Greg. I enjoyed Tom and Sharon's company alot too, but was a little disappointed I didn't get to spend much quality time with Tom and his gal. Oh well, Tom. We'll always have our special subway excursion on a rainy night in September, eh. It does my heart good to know that Deb has such entertaining and quality friends in SC. Deb should be back solo at the end of January. I am looking forward to that too.Posted by mermu at 07:59 PM | Comments (0)
Tree Envy
At one point when I first met Rhett, we were extoling the virtues of a live Christmas tree over those nasty (sorry, Dad. I know you love 'em) fake ones and he carelessly mentions that he usually gets his trees from "the farm". He picks out the tree and chops it down himself. These trees are beautiful, he says, and last forever!!! Rhett loves Christmas. It's obvious. Who else but a true Christmas lover could sing the words to all the music from "Santa Claus is Coming to Town"? Who else insists on watching a show of which I had never heard, "The March of the Wooden Soldiers"? This year Rhett lives in a small yet stylish apartment with little room for Christmas fair. He won't even get a tree this year but instead settle for getting his holiday fix at his mom's house or while watching Rudolph.
I love Christmas too. When I toured with A Christmas Carol at the Nebraska Theatre Caravan I never, ever got tired of the Carols. "God Rest ye Merry Gentlemen...." But truth to tell, I have never really embraced the holiday season while in New York/ New Jersey. I've always known I would be flying out before Christmas Day and wouldn't return till after. What's the point of a tree and all that? Come to think of it, my wandering past has rarely allowed me an opportunity to deck the halls in the manner they deserve. I don't know that I have ever bought my very own Christmas tree. And I love the Christmas season. This year could be no different. I am leaving for Texas on the 19th and won't be back until the 26th. But last year's Christmas was overlayed with the pall of missing people in New York and we were all just happy to live through it. Despite Bush's and Bloomberg's best efforts to put working class people in the poorhouse, this Christmas feels different. I am ready to embrace it and I have a floor through 2+ bedroom apartment with high ceilings. So on the coldest day of the year so far, sunny but with a windchill in the early teens, Rhett and I trekked out to the Wycoff Christmas Tree Farm in New Jersey and picked out a winner. We found one, smaller than the rest (They were all huge.) and began the task of cutting down my very own tree. I did an okay job of cutting down the tree but I think Rhett was a little better at it. I sawed for just as long but he was actually cutting more tree when he was doing the work. This baby, a douglas fir, was beautiful. After finally cutting down the tree, the farm guys loaded it onto a truck to be wrapped up and measured. They said it was 10 and 1/2 feet long. Holy Cow! I am not 100% sure my ceilings are 10 feet tall or not. We'll just have to wait and see. So we haul my little bundle of Christmas joy onto Rhett's SUV and make way for the apartment. Once there we somehow managed to get this monstrosity up the flight of stairs to my apartment and upright, in the stand, in the living room. It took a little time, but it is now anchored to the back wall and erect and beautiful. For the record, we measured it at the house. It was almost 11 feet. We had to cut off a little over half a foot to get it to fit. I water it. The stand leaks...SHIT.
F*cking Tree
So Rhett and I are staring at my perfectly centered and upright tree and pondering how to fix this. The stand is new and industrial strength. We thought we got a good deal on it. Not so good if it leaks. I could take it back but that does me no good now and my tree, MY BABY, won't last without water. Now this is how I know that Rhett is a good and patient guy. He doesn't freak out. He doesn't yell, scream or kick the tree. He just sits there...staring and exhausted....trying to figure out a solution to our problem. This reminds me briefly of a time when my mom tried to give my sister and I home perms when we were kids. She was not quite so patient with those slippery tissue paper stays and tiny pink and baby blue rollers. I think if we had video of the event we'd all have to laugh at my mom cursing a blue streak and literally trying to maim a little blue plastic and rubber curler while I or my sister where desperately hoping the stinky stuff wouldn't get into our eyes and our hair wouldn't be an unwitting victim in my mom's Curler Carnage. What can I say? We've all grown up alot since then...and I get my hair done professionally now thank you.Rhett and I finally decide to go to Home Depot and get a tarp. We (okay, mostly he) will lift my 10+ foot tree out of the stand, find the leak and cover it with tarp. That should hold us through the Epiphany party on the 5th of January. I think Rhett may be doing drugs. It looked awfully easy for him to lift that tree. I was more of the navigator in the event and he was the brute force. ahh. My hero and I am little turned on by this...THINK OF THE TREE, MEREDITH. So we extract our perfectly upright tree, free the stand and lo! and behold, it's mostly full of water. We dump the water refill it and there are still no leaks. Finally we discover that the stand has a point about an inch and a half from the top edge that serves as a water line. Any water that goes past that will leak through a bottom crack. The stand was fine and no tarp was needed. So we put the tree back in the stand and try our best to recreate the perfect scenario we had destroyed just moments earlier. Lesson learned. Check out the stand BEFORE putting a 10 foot tree in it.
Tree Hugger
Days later, Rhett and the tree are doing just fine. Rhett was a little sore for a day or two after. The tree gets watered regularly. I even give it a little tree steroid I got from "a guy" who swears it's made of all natural products. Now the tree is surrounded in the glow of white lights and a few ornaments I found in one of my boxes. It's still sparse on the ornaments, but I have to tell you...It is BEAUTIFUL.Posted by mermu at 06:40 PM | Comments (3)
December 05, 2002
Fondue and A Love of the Garden State
The Saturday after Thanksgiving I decided to have a little "Anti Turkey" Dinner party for friends. I was originally scheduled to pet sit at the "swanky Village apartment" but that fell through as the owner's mother was ill and they cancelled their trip to Hawaii. (A sincere Get Well goes out to Bernice.) So the Post T-Day gathering was at my drab Weehawken apartment instead.
When I first moved here I knew that I would not be able to make it to Texas and family for both Christmas and Thanksgiving every year. Even if I could afford it, that's alot of travelling in such a busy time of year. I made a deal with myself to try to always make it to Texas for Christmas for as long as I could. I am independent, I don't have a husband or kids so there is really no reason why I should destroy the delicate balance of the rotating Lucio/Karl Christmas schedule my family worked so hard to develop in years past. My friends in Hoboken, with whom I stayed for a few days when I first moved, adhered to a "Thanksgiving is for friends" philosophy. They came from Texas about 5 years ago and discovered on their first "Friends Thanksgiving" that they actually had alot of fun and found themselves looking forward to a holiday they could share with their friends who are also orphaned for whatever reason during that time of year. My first Thanksgiving in New York, my friend Jim invited me to his apartment on West 54th Street to celebrate with our circle of friends. It was a grand time full of laughter, amazing food, drink and fun. Soon, I too found myself savoring this opportunity to celebrate and give thanks for all of my friends and kindred spirits who made their way to New York in pursuit of dreams, life, liberty and happiness.
This year I decided to do one better and have a little gathering on my own. Not about to miss the massive food orgy that Jim, Andre, John and Ben create every year, I decided to throw my dinner party on Saturday. I knew I didn't want anything traditionally Turkey; I figured that people would be a little turkeyed out by Saturday and something, anything else would be refreshing. After much deliberation I decided on a meal based around fondue. I have always enjoyed the communal nature of fondue when I dined at The Melting Pot in Houston. For some reason, fondue got a bad rap as being kitschy in the 80's. I never understood why. I had never done fondue so I wasn't sure how complicated it may or may not be but I was willing to give it the old college try. This is where our fair-haired friend from Tara comes in. Rhett definitely played the hero this day. (Oh how oh how will the other boys be able to measure up?) Rhett was my chaffeur, inside NJ contact, sous chef, and dishwasher this night. It definitely would have been a much less interesting party without him. And the food would have probably sucked. Instead Mr. Butler drove me all over the purlieus of NJ for the perfect ingredients for my Fondue extravaganza.
Like a true Southerner, I always plan for too much food. I want to make sure there is enough variety and quantity for everybody. I usually end up having way too much food and not having enough room to serve everything I had thought of. This evening's meal consisted of Stuffed Grape Leaves I made from scratch two days ago (they are always better a few days after...like lasagna) a Classic and a "kicked up a notch" Emeril-style cheese fondue, a daring Mushroom fondue, hot and sweet sausage from the best damn sausage place I have ever been to, various dipping items like potatoes, carrots, broccoli, Italian bread, and two Chocolate Fondues with fresh fruits, angel cake, and cookies for dipping. Mr. Butler had the hook up to a cheese shop in Ridgewood, NJ. It was quaint and inviting and full of all things cheese. Marc, you have got to check it out! The lady behind the counter amazed me. I would tell her how much I wanted of each cheese. She would get her cheese wire, slice it off the wheel and it was exactly, exactly the correct amount of cheese every time. I was almost disappointed when I was out of cheeses to order. The best part was the question she asked after having perfectly cut out a pound and a half of Smoked Gouda. "Would you like that grated?" I choked back the tears thinking of all the time this woman was saving me by industrial-ly grating all this cheese. "Yes, (gulp) maam. I think I would." We went to Bed Bath and Beyond to score an extra Fondue pot on sale. I had borrowed two from my friend Jim but felt I should have another. This was, after all, alot of fondue. I also just knew I would use it again. We also went to the discount liquor store for some wine and stuff. After a brief stop at Vitamia's Italian sausage shop in Mr. Butler's hometown which is also claim to the inspiration for the Soprano's Bada Bing, and a few hours later we were on our way to the house where I would finish up my grocery shopping at the Pathmark down the block.
Everything turned out amazing. Fondue isn't really difficult either although I could feel that way because Rhett did most of the work in the kitchen while I flitted about seeing to everyone's needs. I have to be honest. He was kind of my bitch this day but he did it with grace, charm and aplomb. I had a really unique blend of friends there too. Some of my uppercrust NY friends, some Bulgarians, Rhett and his friend Fred, and my partner Greg. Most everybody blended in pretty well and I think everyone had a great time. By the end of the night it was mainly me, Rhett, my partner Greg, and Fred hanging out and having something called baby beers. Things got a little crazy. Put it this way, somebody got a lap dance and it wasn't me. Nor was I doing the dancing. That's all I am saying. The pictures are an exclusive and what happens in New Jersey, stays in New Jersey.
I came away from the weekend with a healthy respect for fondue, ingratiated to Mr. Butler, and an emerging love affair with the state of New Jersey. There are some really unique and interesting things in the Garden State. It's more than just a place to sleep when you aren't prancing about in the city. As for my Bed, Bath, and Beyond fondue pot, I pulled it out of the box and it was broken at the handle and two of the ramekins where cracked. I need to take it back. Instead of replacing it with the exact same thing, I am think that this might be a little more fun and interesting. It's still cheese and you still get to play with your food. Will somebody tell Santa?
Billy and Marian in Soho
One day in early December, Mr. Butler and I decided to walk through NY. It's actually quite nice walking in New York City. On this particular day, the weather was chilly but not freezing and the shops were just starting to put out their Christmas windows. We started at Port Authority, walked to 5th Avenue and made it as far uptown as the Ice Skating Rink at Central Park. Here's a note to all of you would be New Yorkers: the rink at CP is much preferred to the one at Rockefeller Center. The scenery is much more striking with the immaculately landscaped trees gently cloaking the outskirts of the rink but not completely hiding the tops of the massive buildings that surround the park. So what if there isn't a Christmas tree or lighted angels with trumpet? The CP Rink also lets you skate as long as you want. I was chagrined when Mr. Butler informed me that you have a slim window of time to skate at the "Rock Rink". We breezed past The Plaza where I had a rather expensive mediocre tea with my mom and sis when they were here last year. This day there was a crowd and limos. Turns out the princesses from the Disney Ice Show were making an appearance.This was a day of firsts for me all around and, except for the endless comments about various and sundry women we pass (He's lucky I am such a good sport blessed with an adventurous nature.) Mr. Butler is a pretty good walking companion. I had my first experience at FAO Schwartz which was a blast. They had buildings made of lego's and a $500 teddy bear. The bear was cute but I will never, and I mean never spoil any child of mine in such a manner. You can slap me mercilessly with a wet noodle if I do. I also, and Sister don't get excited, had my first excursion at Tiffany's. That's right! Mr. Butler took me to that eschelon of good taste and diamonds. DIAMONDS, Jenny! But alas, Rhett was mainly a tease in these departments. We had a great time "just looking". A special moment was freaking out the snotty sales lady as I picked up a beautiful platinum earring that she had negligently left on the counter. When she saw my jeans-wearing casual self putting my grubby little hands on the bauble she snapped it up really quick. Heh, heh. I guess that will teach her to be so negligent. In the end, Rhett wouldn't even go near the 2nd floor where Tiffany keeps all of her engagement rings. So alas, I am still single and independent. To be truthful, whomever I end up marrying should be pleased to know I don't even want a diamond. Let's face it, they are all conflict diamonds and I am not so sure that my having a pretty sparkly thing that lets the world know I am off the market is worth civil wars, and murder, and oppression. If and when the time comes, I think I will go for an "estate ring" or something in a non-agressive gem. I think I have plenty of time to think about it. Who knows, by that time maybe the conflict in Conflict Diamonds will be just a memory. I am pondering these thoughts as the very easy-going Mr. Butler lets me peruse the various floors of Tiffany's wonders. Once out we walk all the way down 5th Ave toward the Soho area. It was a great day I must say. We ran into a sample sale of some really soft and warm sweaters. ( I bought one in purple and a little army green night shirt. What is wrong with me!!! Shop for others..It's Christmas! My mothers' genes are showing I guess.) We also met a woman named Martina. She is an art student who was selling paper goods as a street vendor on Broadway. I happened to be wearing my Tex in the City Swarovski Crystal shirt. She loved it and thought I might have some luck selling them on the streets. I have to say I have often thought about trying to be a street vendor. It seems like a romantic way to make a living. All for your art and meeting the world one on one. I know it's hard work too. Getting up at the crack of dawn to get a good spot and all that. It's still a thought though. After working so hard to create Tex in the City, LLC with my partners I have really learned that I have a pretty creative head for business. It's just a question of focus.
Before capping off our day and walking back up to Port Authority to take the bus to NJ, Rhett treated me to a very special cup of hot chocolate. It was daring and a little naughty which made that cocoa positively scrumptious. It seems that Rhett discovered a few years back that there is a cocoa/coffee machine on every floor of a very swanky hotel in SOHO. If you act like you know what you are doing, you can just go in and avail yourself of said swanky hotel's ample hospitality. Being the dramatic one, I thought it important that we have a story. You know, a cover that would blend in with the other tourists. So I dubbed Rhett "Billy"..well, William, Willy, Will, Bill my working stiff husband from Ohio (Everybody is honest in Ohio.)
Rhett, not one for coming up with things off the cuff said "Mary".
Mermu: "Mary?"
Rhett: "Okay, Marion".
So Billy and Marion went through the lobby and up to their "room" on the 8th floor to catch a nap before meeting "Stella and Tom" for dinner. We came down a few minutes later with steaming cups of hot cocoa. Marion was a little flustered as she was really looking forward to napping before dinner. It seems that we had to meet Stella and Tom early. Tom wasn't having too much fun on this trip. I think he is cheating on Stella. We cleared the lobby and cleared the doors and out we were; back on the streets of SOHO with a tasty ill-gotten beverage to keep us warm. I don't think Rhett was too impressed with my "blend in" story. He didn't think we needed it. But hey, it never hurts to be careful. For a moment we thought we were busted too. As we were pouring our cocoa on the 8th floor, a woman dressed all in black came into the little vending room. We thought she was with the hotel and was all set to call us on our frivolity, throw us out on our ass and take our cocoa. Fortunately she just wanted a little warmth in a cup just like the rest of us. On the walk back we saw more interesting vendors like Jose Paternoster. He makes watches out of recycled metals. He not only designs them but also puts together all of the working elements as well. By the end of the day we decided we had a healthy 8 mile walk. We ended up taking the path to Hoboken and walking from Hoboken to Weehawken where we had parked his car. It was a lovely excursion in the city.
Posted by mermu at 10:41 PM | Comments (3)
Check out November 19th. It's
Check out November 19th. It's finally up and it's a doozy!
Posted by mermu at 10:39 PM | Comments (1)