The Wall of Toasty

On Thursday I came home to find our heater dead, kaput, finished. I’m not sure what happened, perhaps it finally realized that the air conditioning unit departed from us during the summer and the heater didn't think he could live without her?  No matter the reason, it was bad, because the weather hasn't been in the mood to be kind to those of us without heat.  My immediate fear was for our cat.  She couldn't stay in a freezing house and relocating her would probably freak her out (my husband pointed out that I appeared to be fine with us freezing to death as long as the cat was safe). After much frustration and wringing of hands my husband remembered that there were two un-renovated rooms in our house, meaning that we hadn't pulled out the old electric base board heaters that remained even though the house was converted to gas heat well before we bought the home.  

Un-renovated

  We were saved, even if it meant having to live on the second floor until the issue gets resolved. Surprisingly it hasn’t been terrible. The downstairs is quite chilly.  There is a distinct difference when you step onto the upstairs landing. I have dubbed it the wall of toasty because as soon as you step on the landing you are hit with a wall of warm toasty air. 

Where the wall of toasty begins

On Saturday, I had to get bundled up to put my groceries away.

There is still no word on when we will get our new heater.  We have a home warranty which means that we will save a lot of money, but in exchange they aren't in any rush to help us out.

One good thing about the whole situation is that I found a new favorite writing spot. I was able to get a lot of writing done since I had a snow day today.

My new spot provides me with a view of a snoozing kitty,

And a view of the bird feeder. 

The only slight issue is that someone else discovered the great view of  the bird feeder making writing at times problematic.  

Hopefully we won't have to wait too long before our whole house has heat again, and once the weather clears, and getting out and about is less of a challenge, I should be back to writing about more interesting and fun things like concerts, plays and places to eat. 

3 Things that don't suck...

...even if the weather does.

  Like most people, the weather this winter has not been my favorite.  I get chilly and need a sweater when it's 70 degrees so I have felt that most of my energy the past few months has been devoted to the soul task of keeping warm.  I have been working hard to not let the grumpies get the best of me keep and to save myself from going insane, I focus on the things that I actually like this time of year.  Hopefully with some positive thinking, I can make it through the next few months without my laptop suddenly reading...

All work and no play makes Sarah a dull girl

1) Soup
   

 I love a good hot bowl of soup.  That is why soup usually shows up on our at home menu at least once per week, October through March.  One of my must make soups is Tuscan Sausage Soup. I tried a new soup last week, Creamy White Bean and Bacon Soup, that turned out to be quite yummy.  You could omit the bacon if you don't eat pork or meat and I think it would be just as good.
For a completely meatless soup the Zucchini Basil soup from The Farmstead Chef cookbook has become a favorite in our house this winter, especially when made with the Farmers' Market zucchini that I froze during the summer.

2) Starbucks' Caramel Flan Latte

     I am usually a Caramel Macchiato girl, but Starbucks' Caramel Flan Latte has stolen my heart.  There is nothing like the first warm- cozy- delicious- shudder worthy- first sip of a yummy coffee beverage.  I allow myself one latte per week, and only if I am a good girl and I don't run anyone over at the store with my grocery cart.

3) An Extra Snuggly Kitty

   Overall our kitty is pretty affectionate, but during the warmer months she spends a lot more time zooming around the house doing kitty stuff. In the winter however, she leaves no lap, no stretched out legs, and no warm back unsnuggled.

3 Extra bonus happy things- Fires in the fire place (especially when paired with a glass of wine). The book Watersmeet  by Ellen Jensen Abbott (Got it in December and finally finished it. It was a fantastic read), and watching 15 year old Yulia Lipnitskaya skate (I love artistic beauty and it got a little dusty as I watched her skate this weekend).

The month of laze

I am sitting this very moment at my desk, watching the snow fall in my back yard. It is slow, calming, and peaceful.

 

This past November and December left me feeling tired and thinned.  Instead of sprinting into January with a head and heart filled with goals and ambitions, I sort of fumbled into it head over heels, worn out and with a heart filled with lead and a head filled with mush.  I needed to rest. I needed to not be busy with a schedule jammed packed with things to do.  I needed to be lazy.

And so I have. 

I spent January mooning over Spike and laughing at his antics (Buffy watching).  I spent January making new friends whose schools and town halls I can vandalize (Simpson’s Tapped Out). I snuggled up on the sofa at night with my love and debated over who had the worst wardrobe, Wesley Crusher or Jake Sisko (Star Trek DS9 watching). I cheered when Sherlock put on his cap. I read a book where I traveled with a dwarf (Watersmeet), perused through my Johnny’s seed catalog, and fangirled on Pinterest.  I went less places and I ignored the small nagging voice that asked,

“Shouldn’t you be sending out your picture book manuscript to publishers? Shouldn’t you be editing your novel? Shouldn’t you be going to that meeting or volunteering for that thing?”

“No,” I answered. “No I should not. I need time to recharge my batteries, to rest, it will all be there waiting for me the next day, the next week, the next month.” 

I have greatly enjoyed having a lazy January. I have enjoyed it so much that I think I will slowly ease my way into February and see how it goes. I will remind myself more that I don’t have to do everything all at once and that a firm no is better than a half-hearted yes and thanks to Krista M.  I think I too will aspire this year to try to do less and take care of and be kind to myself more.

Don't be jealous of my Giant Rainbow Unicorn Heart

During my fruitless efforts to locate my old camp picture, I stumbled upon my old sticker books.

 

 

When I was a kid, stickers were all the rage.  Girls were passionate about their stickers (maybe there were some boys who were passionate about stickers, aside from the kind you put on your skateboard, but I never met one). And I’m not talking, hey there’s a sticker and I’ll wear it on my shirt how fun, it was more like, if you even think about stealing my fuzzy lion sticker, don’t lie I see it in your eyes, I will cut you.  I could spend hours organizing my stickers and designing my pages.  It was the perfect way for my parents to get me to accompany them on long boring shopping trips, well either the promise of stickers or the promise of candy worked equally well.

There were various categories of stickers...

There were puffy stickers

 

 

There were fuzzy stickers

 

 

There were stickers with your name on them, though they weren't the best because they were hard to trade unless someone happened to have the same name as you

 

 

There were stickers with your favorite cartoon characters

 

 

There were the always popular glittery stickers

 

 

And my absolute favorite, the scratch-n-sniff

 

 

If you had a giant sticker that took up most of a page no matter what the sticker was of, you were pretty much the coolest. If it was of a giant rainbow unicorn heart, well I'm sorry I'm so awesome, don't be jealous.

 

 

The very best days were the ones when your friends would come over and bring their stickers and you would spend hours bartering and trading.  You would say things like,

   “The iridescent butterfly with the liquid stuff inside that moves when you touch it? Oh, that’s worth at least two sheets of scratch-n- sniff and one sheet of fuzzy unicorns." 

Maybe the kids these days have fun spending time trading virtual stickers, but my heart does feel a little sad that most kids now will never know the pleasures of a newly opened pack of scratch-n- sniffs or know the joys of trading a page of Garfield for a page of glittery butterflies.  They were fun times, fun times indeed.

 

Two notes: 1) This is my 100th Blog post.  Yay me!  2) It always miffed me that the Garbage Pail Kid Sara Slime spelled her name without the h. 

Ridiculously Amazing

A few months ago I bought this little sign to put into the bathroom that I use to get ready in the morning.

     

While I was in the hospital I received a lot of questions and comments from the staff regarding my positive, cheerful, pleasant non-grumbling disposition (on one of the doctor’s reports he described me as lovely and youthful).  I was never exactly sure how to answer the inquiries.  I could go into a deep spiritual explanation but honestly it is not even as complex as all that.

   A common phrase heard in our house is, “Dear, you can’t do everything.”  This is usually uttered after I have rattled off a list of things that I want to do…NOW!  I want to take a class, I want to be in that play, I want to eat at these five restaurants and see these movies and these four plays on Broadway, and meet these people and volunteer for this and lead that and vacation hear…..then my husband will say, “Dear you can’t do everything.”  It kills me to know I can’t do everything and I know I never could.  When I start to compile all of the places I want to go, the foods I want to try, the things I want to see and the experiences I want to have, there isn’t enough time in two lifetimes to do it all.  Life is short and with that in mind I know that I don’t have a single day to waist on being bitter, or angry or outraged (if I’m not going to pitch in and help to make the problem better) or grumbly. I need to look at each experience good or bad as something that can be learned from and make the best of it that I can.      

    It doesn’t mean that I don’t or can’t have moments of frustration (where I’m prone to rant) or have sad days or grumpy days where I do whine a bit, but it is not habit or an everyday occurrence. When those types of days do occur the next day when I wake up and go into the bathroom I know that it is a fresh new day and today I will make it RIDICULOUSLY AMAZING!

Fanboy/Fangirl Camp?

 So I’ve been reading the book Nerd Camp by Elissa Brent Weissman (who will be at the Collingswood Book Festival this year).   It is such a fun book and is an excellent summer read.  Every time I open the book I’m instantly transported to the camp and feel like I am hanging out with Gabe, Wesley and Nikhal.  When Color War finally broke, I was just as excited, sadly maybe even more excited, than the characters in the book.  It made me wish that as a youngster I could have gone to an awesome camp like Gabe (note: you had to pass a test to be accepted into the camp. I imagine the test included a lot of math so I probably would have never gotten into Gabe’s camp) but my brief camp experience was not that awesome, in fact I hated sleep away camp and was happy when after two years my parents did not make me go again.

   Firstly I thought that the camp brochure was a gross misrepresentation.  There were pictures of smiling kids swimming, doing archery and making crafts.  My expectations were that I would go to camp and shoot arrows all morning and then maybe take a dip in the pool before heading to the craft room to whip up a little something.  When I got to camp I learned that we were allotted only an hour of “free time” and the rest of the day was micromanaged with a strictly followed schedule. The schedule included a lot of activities involving balls, like whiffle ball and kickball and a lot of organized group games.  As a child who had the luxury of a stay-at-home-mom and summers that were slow, unhurried and free, I did not acclimate well to being forced to participate in activities like daily kickball games.  The camp that I went to was a conservative Christian camp and we were taught a song that went…

Yoda, Obi wan Kenobi, using the force.  E.T. with his magic finger, He-man with his sword, all of these are using powers God’s word does condemn, the Bible calls it sorcery and sorcery is sin…

The song made my 8 year old self skeptical of the camp and its leaders because 1) I watched and really liked He-man. He-man was great (I had yet to be introduced to the world of Star Wars). 2) I would argue that E.T. came from another planet and that any abilities that he possessed were the result of the atmosphere and/or the evolution of his species on his planet and/or the advanced technology of his planet and in no way falls under the category of “magic.”  It’s funny what miffs you off as a kid that still sticks with you into adulthood. 

   Aside from one friend (hi Sharon) who went to space camp, I don’t remember there being a lot of cool summer camp opportunities when I was young.  Now there are theater camps, rock music camps, forensic science camp and I even passed a sign this summer advertising robot camp (I believe you build robotics not that the camp is run by giant robots although that would be neat too unless it turned into West World…).  I started thinking as an adult, what kind of summer camp would I like to go to now?  I decided that I would love to spend a week at a  Fanboy/Fangirl summer camp.

  There would be archery of course but you could also learn sword fighting or light saber dueling. All activities would be optional of course.

  For crafts you could design your own superhero mask and of course no one could leave camp without a popsicle stick TARDIS.

   There would be indoor games like Vampire (if you have never played Vampire in a large group of people I recommend it, it’s fun), pin the beard on Riker and of course video games…lots and lots of video games. Also don’t forget RPGs and a special room reserved for games featured on Tabletop.  Outdoor games would be offered as well like wrestle the inflatable Kraken in the pool and instead of capture the flag you would play Rebels vs.  The Alliance to capture River Tam or Orks vs. The Fellowship to capture the one ring, and you couldn’t have a Fanboy/Fangirl summer camp without a week long kick ass quidditch tournament. 

   The camp would offer workshops like Zombie Survival skills, comic book writing, calculate River Song’s timeline…are you seeing how much fun Fanboy/Fangirl summer camp would be?

  At night everyone would gather around the fire to sing Klingon battle songs or lullabies in Elvish before hitting the hay with dreams of time travel dancing in their heads.  Oh, if only my Fanboy/Fangirl summer camp was real.   

 Here's a picture of me at summer camp.  Don't let the smile fool you.

 

The times they are....

...a changin'

     Remember my nice little blog ( http://theobligablog.blogspot.com/2012/12/i-am-intrigued-by-traditions.html) at Christmas about our traditional tree hunting expedition?  This week while traveling to work I passed this

That is the restaurant we always ate at after we conquered our tree.  The sight reminded me that life is always in a constant flux.  Tradition is nice, but change is good too, it give one room to experience, learn and expand. Goodbye Tokyo Mandarin and hello to whatever new restaurant we decide to warm our frosty fingers, toes and nose.

Jam Tomorrow, Jam Yesterday...

….But Never Ever Ja-aam-mmm Today.

I love strawberry season.  As they sit in their little blue cartons at the farmer’s market, they looked so fresh and vibrant. I always have to pick up one or more pints every week while in season and at least once I must use them to make refrigerator strawberry jam.  Since I still need to purchase proper canning supplies, refrigerator jam is an easy way to make fresh jam and once made it will last in your fridge for one month (I’ve kept it longer and had no problems).

You will need

4 cups of fresh strawberries- stems removed and cut in half (I sometimes cut them smaller)

1 cup sugar (I like to use organic non-processed sugar)

2 tsp fresh lemon juice

Combine the strawberries and sugar in a pot and bring the mixture to a boil, stirring constantly.  Once it reaches a boil, lower heat to a simmer. 

.  Let the contents simmer, stirring occasionally until it becomes thick.  The recipe I use says to simmer for an hour but I’ve found it takes quite a bit more time.  It is one of those nice things to leave on simmer and wander away to fold some laundry or put away dishes or check your Facebook, strolling back to it every so often to give it a stir all the while allowing your nostrils to indulge in the blissful jammy scent.

Once it thickens but still retains some juicy strawberry chunks, take the pot off of the heat and stir in the lemon juice.  Let the jam cool.  Once cool transfer the jam to a sealed container that can be kept in your fridge.

 

I found that this jam works great in The Pioneer Woman’s Strawberry Oatmeal Bar recipe.  You just need to make a double batch of jam so you will have enough.

I can never make jam without singing the jam song that Carol Channing sings in the made-for-television-all-star-cast version of Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass. I remember watching it when it first aired in December 1985.  My seven year old self was in epic grand musical rapture. We tapped it on the VCR so I could watch it over and over and over again, as seven year olds do and the Jam song was always my favorite( The Lion and the Unicorn being my second favorite song).   I was giddy with excitement a few years ago when I found a used copy of the movie.  I still loved it as it transformed me back into my seven year old self even after all of these years,  but my husband fled after twenty-five minutes claiming that it might be the worst most cheesy thing every put to film.  To each his own I guess.

Sleep Tight

Going to bed the first week of marriage...

Going to bed after ten years of marriage...

I found out this week that I have an issue with the plate in my jaw.  It seems to be mostly due to having a deep bite combined with bruxism (jaw clenching) that is occuring while I'm sleeping.  The doctor recommended that I try wearing a night guard because it would help align my jaw and keep me from clenching it while I slumber.  So far it has helped but I must admit between my propensity for freezing at night (causing a need for warm pjs), my nasal strips so that I can breath and now this sexy night guard

I am not so lovely to look at when bedtime comes around.  I am forever grateful that I married someone who loves me for who I am and not what I look like and he tends to find the nasal strip night guard wearing creature that I transform into quite humorus and loves me just the same.



And of course no bedtime would be complete without a good book on the nightstand.

About Face

 

 

I got new glasses.   I have basically worn the same frames since I started wearing glasses when I was eighteen.  I have equated changing frames with getting a face lift.  I knew that new frames would change the look of my face and until now I was not prepared to do that, but I felt compelled this year to make a change.

The process of picking new frames was daunting.  I’m sure I tried on at least fifty different frames.  The frames I ended up with were the third pair I tried.  The process went something like…

(Pair I picked) “Oh these are okay….

Try on about 10 more. 

(Try on the pair I picked) “I do like these…”

Try on 10 more pairs

(Try on the pair I picked) “These work well with my face.”

Try on 10 more pairs, “I don’t like these as much as I like that one pair.”

(Try on the pair I picked) “I like them but what if I hate them in a few years?”

Husband: “In a few years you will be a different person, so don’t worry about it. These fit who you are right now.”

They were pretty deep words for just picking out glasses and I knew he was right.  Right now I am not the same person I was when I first picked out those wire frames when I was eighteen.  I like to think that I am better.  I am wiser, more confident, and more mature.  Hopefully in another few years I’ll be even better.

 

 

If you notice I changed the look of my blog.  Last year was the peaceful and contemplative year.  This year is the exciting full of bright and positive things year and I needed something bright and positive to go along with my new adventures.    

 

Birthday Fun!

Yesterday  we went out and celebrated my 35th birthday.  For a January Saturday afternoon the weather was absolutely marvelous.  Our first stop was a restaurant called Wedge + Fig.  Since the weather was so nice we sat outside in the garden (with some help from the heaters of course).

Some girls like a big slice of cake for their birthday, but I'll take a plate of cheese over cake any day.

I highly recommend the Midnight Moon cheese.  Our waiter said it would be cheese perfection and he was correct.  I also had a yummy panini.

After our meal we went to aka music to looked for used cds.  I was lucky enough to find a used copy of the Pan's Labyrinth soundtrack. Maybe they knew it was birthday.

After searching for used music we searched for used books at The Book Trader.  I found two books to add to my collection.

Next we went to the Arden Theatre Company's performance of Cinderella.

The play was fantastic.  It used a mix of LED screen, live actors and shadow puppetry.It was a modern retelling of Cinderella.  Her father does not die and Cinderella is just as much at fault for treating her step-mother and step-sisters poorly as they are of treating her with injustice.  Cinderella and the prince become friends because he dresses like a commoner and spends time in Cinderella's garden.  They have a fight and he leaves in a hurry droping one of his shoes.  Later after the ball (The Prince doesn't recognize Cinderella in Princess clothes) when he goes searching for the girl to fit the glass slipper they end up exchanging shoes which was a fun twist.  The play used music from Mozart throughout and Mozart was a character in the play.  He was the Prince's friend.  At the end of the play they allowed the children to ask the cast questions.  One little boy asked Mozart, "Why does your hair look like it was struck by lightening?"  The actor replied

"Well, when you're a genius you don't have time to do things like comb your hair." That made me smile.

We ended the evening with some coffee and dessert.  It was one of my most favorite birthdays ever. 

 

Today, which is my actual birthday, I decided I wanted to have a bit of a rest so we had breakfast at the Pop Shop and then I went home for a full day of watching Dr. Who.

Through the Wardrobe

When I was a young girl I had a small wardrobe in my playroom.  There were many days when I would climb inside, close the door, sit on the floor and lean against the wardrobe’s back wall.  Each time I wished so hard that the wall would dissolve away and I would find myself in Narnia.

Today I turn thirty-five.  Say it with me…t-h-i-r-t-y-f-i-v-e…doesn’t that sound so…grown up?  Don’t you think of someone who is thirty-five as an “adult?”  Somehow my brain cannot compute this information.  I looked out of my front window this morning.  It is my birthday after all.  There was hope that perhaps the TARDIS would be out there in my front yard.  The Doctor would be waving up at me (donning his best bow tie) and say,



   “Happy Birthday Sarah!  Now where do you want to go?”  Then I thought, is that really what someone who is 35 should wish for their birthday?  Shouldn’t I want a nice pair of slacks or a nice purse (and not the cool bottomless kind like Hermione).  As my birthday fun treat I was given the opportunity to go to the Arden theater to see their (children's theater) production of Cinderella.  I repeat, a children’s theater production, not very adult at all.  The other day I was having a conversation with someone about reading certain kinds of books and I said,

“I don’t like reading books where the characters are suffering the whole time…oh unless a dragon or maybe giant robots or something cool that is the cause of the suffering, then that’s okay.”  Dragon’s and giant robots are not thirty-five sounding.

When I was a little girl I started using my imagination to cope with sadness.  Awkward, odd and often made fun of I used to pretend that a man talked to me through my mirror.  He was from another world where I was a princess who was stolen away and placed in this world for protection (Can you now understand how I felt when I first read Harry Potter? It was like finding a soul mate).  On my sixteenth birthday I would have to go back to my kingdom and fight back for my throne (using an awesome magic sword).  The man was my advisor who kept me updated on what was going on in the other world and I would often lament and pour my feelings out to him about how lame I found this one.  Those classmates could mock me all they wanted…I was secretly a warrior princess so…in your face!  To this day I still find imagination to be a reliable coping mechanism though I no longer secretly talk to my mirror.  Instead I loose myself in the stories of others.  Stories about flying around with Time Lords, or drinking vials of metals that will give you special powers, or solving crimes and/or puzzles because you are super intelligent, or being the chosen one who can save the world, or having dragon companions who you can talk to telepathically, just to name a few.  I have also been known to write stories of my own about dreams delivered by spiders, a weird train that takes you to a spectacular place and doors that can only be opened by carving special keys.  It seems at this point to be who I permanently am, an adult who has somehow still been able to retain the same imagination that she had as a young girl and I can only believe that on my seventy fifth birthday and beyond I will still look out of my window hoping for the TARDIS and still believe that perhaps the wall within the wardrobe will finally disappear.

I have great friends who purchased me fantastic birthday gifts!  No slacks here, just an amazing TARDIS hoodie and a TARDIS night light.  Maybe I can use the night light to call the actual TARDIS...do I hear fan fiction?