Four Hundred Children

There's A Reason

The blog has been dark for a few weeks now for a reason.  I've got lots of posts halfway done in my head but have been unable to write them without starting to cry.  My ex-boyfriend died.  He was my most loyal reader and the thought of coming here to write was very confusing for me.  I didn't write the blog for him and there were things on here that he didn't like along with many other things that he loved.  We still talked occasionally and I know that he checked daily to see if there was a new post up.  There are a lot of things that happened in the past few weeks that I want to write about these past few weeks but I'm not prepared to so instead, I will share with you something that he loved. 

Brisket

1 nice sized brisket that will fit into your Dutch Oven
1 bag of onions
1 jar Heinz Chili Sauce
1 can of beer

Peel the onions and slice them into half moons until you can't stand peeling onions any more.  Walk away from them and then go back and peel and slice more of them.

Pack half the onions into the bottom of your Dutch Oven, nestle the brisket on top of it and then pack the rest of the onions on top.  Your brisket should be completely buried in onions.

Pour the bottle of chili sauce over the top.  Open the beer and swish a little around in the chili sauce bottle to get all the goodness out and then add the beer to the pot. 

You will want to stir it but don't even try.  Just leave it alone.  Put it over a high flame, bring it up to a boil and then turn it down as low as it will go, pop a lid on and simmer it for at least 3 hours until the brisket is done to your liking.  I like it a little bit shreddy but still sliceable.

Serve it over egg noodles or on a buttered kaiser roll with a bowl of the gravy for dipping.

I made it this weekend for the first time for Brian and he loved it.  I didn't get into the whole dead-ex-boyfriend's-favorite-meal thing with him although I know he would understand (the man is a rock).  I just wanted this meal to continue to be something special for someone other than me. 

P.S.  I may have blogged this recipe before but I don't really care about being redundant right now. 

Dear 2012

Hello 2012 and welcome.  It's very nice to meet you.

First of all, let me thank you for kicking the year off with a rainy night.  I'm not sure if 2011 gave you some notes before you started but I really love a rainy night.  2012, if this is how you're going to roll, we'll get along just fine.

Now, here are some things that you need to know before we get too involved.

1.  I know that I already have enough yarn but if you could find it in your heart to have some really special things  in the marketplace at Vogue Knitting, it would be nice.

2.  In the beginning of 2011, I had to tell someone that "this is totally fucked and your job is to unfuck it!"  I would rather not have to use that sentence, as charming as it is, again.

3.  You may not have noticed yet because you are just a day old, but there's enough misery in the world already.  It would be great if you could do your best not to contribute more.  I'll help.  We all will.

4.  Could you please remind me to carry my camera more often.  And to keep it charged.  Regarding number three, there is is far more beauty in the world than misery and I would appreciate you doing your best to make even more (see number 1--you're already doing a great job--there's nothing prettier to me than a rainy night).  If you can help me out with the camera thing, I promise I will share everything beautiful that you give me.

5.  I wouldn't mind being given the opportunity to foster some more kitties.  We really enjoyed the two that we had in the house this year.  Bring 'em on!

I'm sure that this has already been a really long day for you, my new friend 2012, so I won't burden you with any more requests.  Lets just agree to do this whole thing together; I think we'll make a really good team.  I'm looking forward to getting to know you.

Love,
Karen

P.S.  Dear 2011--Thank you so much. You were a pleasure.  If you happen to run into 2004, please let it know that I've forgiven it for sucking ass.  xo

My Family

1.  My family is good--knitting books and yarn for Christmas.  Woo hoo!
2.  My family is very good--wine store gift card for Christmas.  Woo hoo hoo!
3.  My family is better than yours--some of the yarn is Noro.  Woo hoo hoo hoo!
4.  My family rocks--Flying Fingers gift card for Christmas.  Woo hoo hoo hoo hoo!
5.  I love my family and clearly, they love me back.

Holiday Hump Day

One of the best things about my birthday is that it falls almost exactly between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  It's actually exactly two weeks before Christmas (don't bother doing the math--it's the 11th.) which makes it the perfect Holiday Hump Day.  Usually everyone is ready to take a much needed break.  No shopping.  No wrapping.  No baking (unless it's cake for me!). 

And we did it up right this year.  Pat (of the tomatoes) hosted a perfect gathering.  There were family, friends, friends with families with them, friends who didn't know they had me in common, old friends, new friends and really, everyone in between.  Some friends didn't have the luxury of escaping the holidays but that just means I have a reason to get together with them soon.

And we ate.  Chicken three ways, chips, dips, cheese, crackers, treats, kasha varnishkas (I have no idea how to spell that), roasted cauliflower, stuffed mushrooms, carrot cake cupcakes--need I go on?  We drank wine and soda and water and Coquito which may be my new favorite thing. 

And even though I said no gifts, there were some shiny little things for me to play with when I got home.

Last year, I had a similar gathering but the intention of it was really different.  Pat and I both needed a party so we threw one.  My birthday just happened to be at the right time.  And I think that party really launched something for me.  I realized that I am surrounded by amazing people who love me very much.  And that made me realize that I had wasted so much time being unhappy.  Look what I had!!  Right here in front of me all this time!!  And I spent the past year embracing it.  (I know I've rambled on about this before but it really is quite a stunning difference in my life.  Indulge me.)

Yes, I took some risks.  I've taken risks before and sometimes they work out and sometimes they turn around and bite you on the ass.   But it's worth it.  I finally remembered that ass bites heal. 

Yes, I still have a boat load of baggage.  But really, who doesn't?  And on the rare occasion that my baggage sneaks up on me, I have someone who holds my hand when I'm acting like a raging lunatic sensitive soul and soothes me.

I remember thinking "I can do whatever the hell I want."  And I really wish that my inner voice had said to me "Yeah, and how's that workin' out for you?"  I think it was the convergence of many, many things that led up to that birthday party in 2010 that finally made me answer that question.

So was it a perfect year?  No, of course not.  There's no such thing.  But did I live it fully and with an open mind and heart?  I think so.  At least I tried to.  And maybe the trying is the part that counts. 

I've knit a lot less because I actually have other things to do now.  I have made new friends who I really, really like.  I still knit a lot but I no longer have the obsessive need that I had to accomplish something because I'm accomplishing other things. 

I know you're dying to know what the best birthday gift I got was.  I was reading the Yarn Harlot yesterday and she had it up as the gift of the day for knitters.  On the morning of my birthday I woke up really, really early--like 4 o'clock early.  After laying in bed for about 20 minutes trying to convince myself that I was not, actually, bright eyed and bushy tailed, I got up and snuggled up on the couch with tv, a cat and my knitting.  Around 5 o'clock, Brian wandered out, half asleep and bleary and said "I didn't know where you went."  So I told him I would come back to bed and read while he slept.  He looked at me and said "No, I'll be okay.  You deserve some nice, quite knitting time" and he wandered back to bed. 

Let's Not Talk About the Potatoes

Every year I give myself a cooking theme for Thanksgiving dinner.  It's not obvious and it doesn't really involve anything other than entertaining myself.  It only involves the side dishes (turkey, stuffing and gravy are sacrosanct) and it simply provides me with hours of entertainment planning the meal.  One year it was side dishes that were both sweet and savory.  Another year it was dishes that could be considered New York food.  You get the idea.


This year I went with recipes from friends and family.  Over the past few months my house has suddenly become our home and it seemed a good way to celebrate.  So instead of buying the shrimp cocktail, Brian made it (fresh horseradish is my new best friend).  We had my friend Larry's delicious corn pudding.  My mother's friend Eileen's carrots.  My sister's cranberry sauce.  My grandmother's turnips.  The sweet potatoes that were inspired by my friend Mark. 

Really--can you beat brown sugar, butter, bourbon, heavy cream and pecans.

My neighbors Joanne and Carol came over for drinks and hors d'oeurves.  I see them on the elevator all the time and on Wednesday night told them to stop by any time.  And they did!  And it was a huge treat!

Then my cousin Trina showed up after dinner for a visit. 

Look at that--friends and family!  My theme worked out.

And I really think that's why my potatoes failed so miserably.  I've made mashed potatoes about a million times.  Could do 'em with my eyes closed.  And they were so beautiful.  Five pounds of Yukon Golds that looked like they came out of a magazine spread.

Something happened.


Something bad.

Now Brian is convinced that I boiled them too long but in relation to the doneness of the turnips, they should have been just fine.  I drained them, put them back in the pot, added butter, milk, cream cheese, salt and pepper, a touch of sour cream for zing and then, lo and behold, I couldn't find the damn hand mixer.  So I grabbed my trusty potato masher and figured my biceps could use a good workout and that's when it happened.

One mash.  Just one simple mash.  And the whole thing turned into liquid.  Not even soup.  Just liquid.  My jaw dropped.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  It was shocking.

It didn't really matter because I had enough food to feed the Russian Army and no one really missed them but I couldn't get past my complete and utter failure.  And I think it may be because it was just my basic mashed potatoes.  Had I gotten a recipe from a family member or friend, I'm sure they would have been just lovely.

Bratty Girl thoroughly enjoyed picking the marshmallows off the sweet potatoes.  I couldn't help noticing that they left a little outline--kind of like the chalk outline on a dead body.

Even the potatoes couldn't ruin our fun.  (Thankfully, Brian got rid of all the evidence.)  We danced in the kitchen which, if you've ever seen my kitchen, is quite a feat.  In one of those big relationship moments, my father insisted that Brian carve the turkey this year.  And to prove what a stand up guy he is, he invited my fabulous brother-in-law to share the task with him.  We drank champagne.  We ate too much.  Then we ate more.  We had Jack Johnson on the CD player. 


I hope that you and yours had a day as wonderful as ours and that you have as many things to be thankful for as I do.

My House Every Morning

Still haven't found the camera cable and I have lots to blog about but they all need photos so instead I will give you a run on sentence and a funny video.  Watch it all the way to the end.

This is totally Brian and Max.  It was actually so bad one night that Brian stayed up all night like a crazy man.  He spent the night watching very bad television and coming into the bedroom chasing the cats off the bed.  His reasoning--if they're not going to let me sleep on the bed, I'm not going to let them sleep on the bed.  Suffice it to say, that explained all the Amityville Horror "GET OUT" dreams I had that night.

You have to watch it all the way to the end.