"Chestnuts will explode if you don't pierce them before cooking."
Yup. Been there done that. Still it was a late night fun fact I hadn't expected to hear from a crappy horror movie. It'll teach me to watch what I watch after midnight.
Don't expose Rob to light
Don't pour water on your Rob.
And Don't let Rob watch crap after midnight.
What? We all have our guilty indulgences. I won't make fun of you for reading my blog, you don't make fun of me for watching Santa's Slay.
That's right, jolly old St. Nick played Michael Meyers with holiday zest, slaughtering strippers and saints alike. I'd tell you how that worked out, but the more I reflect on the film, the more pathetic I look.
"Wow he must have liked the film."
No! I swear, I didn't. It was just a sleigh wreck, and I couldn't help but watch. I can tell you that the chestnut thing is how they defeated Santa in the end. Oh yeah, and a nutcracker too. And curling! There was curling, but that didn't stick out for me. For me it was exploding chestnuts. These are the chestnuts that explode like little memory mines every time somebody steps down.
It was a few years back. Every Thanksgiving MyUnwife and I worked together in the kitchen to prepare a weeks worth of food to eat in one day. That year MyUnwife picked a stuffing recipe with chestnuts. Neither one of us knew anything about them except they were part of a song. The part you roasted on an open fire while Jack Daniels nipped. Jack Frost? Oh sorry. Either way, no biggie, we'd just buy our chestnuts and roast them in our conventional oven. Jack Daniels could drop by if he wanted. We'd roasted almonds before, what could be the big difference? We tossed the chestnut strewn cookie sheet in the oven, then after a few minutes, we pulled it out. Tada!
The cat's were curious. We always do fun things in the kitchen. Fun things for cats are things that include dropping food. We always do a lot of that. Heads and tails dove and bobbed across the floor: Sharks for chum, sharks for chum...
Sniff-Sniff said one cat.
"Meh?" That was the other.
MyUnwife asked, "Are they done?"
"I think so." I said staring at the brown hulls before me.
They looked kind of like the little eggs from Alien stretching across the sheet. I'm looking over the lot. Nudging them with a spatula then-
BAM! One of them blows up! I fall back. MyUnwife dives for her gun. Ok, no gun, but it sounded fun. I think another one blew up. I'm still shell shocked. Shrapnel rained down.
Man down! Man down!
The guard cats flew somewhere in the back of the house to protect the underside of a bed. The nuts in the kitchen usually don't explode unless it's Dad.
Thank God we skipped out on the Jack part. I might not have dodged. Instead, thinking quickly for a slow person, I yanked the hand towel from the oven handle, and tossed it across the cookie sheet. Now it's safe to stand up. The nuts are still popping. Neither of us had any idea they'd do this. Maybe she did, but had wanted to see me dance. Maybe she wanted the insurance money. I've seen late night movies like that, and the husband always has to die before they catch the greedy wife!
We both edged closer to the popping towel. Could they pierce the cloth? Not taking any chances, I grabbed a mallet and busted up the lot. Even the cats came back out. These are the types of things that make the holidays tough.
Last night I went to the grocery store. I picked up a few of the preparations for my Thanksgiving solo . I bought a Cornish game hen. It's like a midget chicken who'd rather be eaten than made fun of. I don't see a reason to cook big turkey that'd just go bad. I love the leftover sandwiches, but after a month of leftovers I'll start mailing what's left to my family as Christmas gifts.
"What did Rob give you this year?"
"Yams."
"Oh, I got a turkey breast carved in the shape of Gina Gershon."
"A breast bust Gina Gershon?"
"Yeah."
"Wow, I'm glad I got the yams…"
I grabbed a can of cranberry sauce too. I'm on the fence concerning the pumpkin pie. MyUnwife hated pumpkin, so it's safe food. But still, do I need a whole pie? And then I'd buy a thing of whipped cream that will go bad too. Maybe I could make a mini pie. We'll see. I haven't picked a veggie yet either. We usually did a thing with green beans and slivered almonds. Almonds don't fight back, so maybe I'll do that.
What about the stuffing? The hens are too small to stuff, so I won't be putting any in the bird, but I do love stuffing. Maybe I'll go with Stove Top. Then again, maybe I'll find a recipe that I like between now and then. It needs to be something uniquely mine though. A recipe that doesn't involve memory bombs and exploding chestnuts.
14 comments:
I don't know why, but I thought chestnut trees were extinct. It had to do with some illness they succumbed to. I guess I'll have to look it up.
Let me know what you find. I've never lived in the right part of the country to tell, but I can tell you this: They're still available at the grocery store. Se either they're still out there, or some evil genius has horded bunkers full of nuts, and is making a mint off chestnut futures.
Holy nutty professors, Batman!
Better put out the Bat-signal!
There was a blight that killed off numerous chestnut trees, but apparently there were some Asian species that were resistant to the fungus. Check out this link:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chestnut
So not to worry, you have been eating real chestnuts, just not from the American species. And that is why furniture is no longer made from chestnut tree wood (thanks, New Yankee Workshop, for bringing this to my attention last week. I had no idea I would be using this knowledge so soon.)
Thanks for the report Extendedforecast. Next time if you could submit it in a 10 page MLA formant it would be greatly appreciated. ;)
Except the part where you tell me I'm eating foreign chestnuts. I think my grandfather would have a fit if he knew! So you're watching the Yankee workshop? So you're telling me in between the time dedicated to being a good wife and mother, and master slip n' slider, you also practice the art of woodcraft? You are a bundle of surprises. ;)
Slip n slider?
I just watch. I've been watching since I was a kid. I only wish I could be a carpenter. That's one of the things I want to be when I grow up, after I become a doctor and a librarian, but before I become a beautician and an editor.
Yes. Slip N' Slider. One accomplished at the sport of Slip n' Slide (or slip n' slidery). It's an Olympic event from ancient Greece, don't-cha know. I believe you mentioned a prowess in a previous post. Ok, maybe not prowess, but at least an affinity. So are you a free styler or a swan diver?
It sounds like you need to get working on that list! It's getting a little top heavy. I also like how you've prioritized beautician over doctor. Is that so you can afford beauty school?
I haven't thought about my list in a long time....I remember I wanted to be a race car driver once. I also wanted to be a computer programmer when I was twelve. I wanted to be a lot of things along the way. Funny, the things we think we want when we're young. I think about the race car thing and cringe now. A lot of times, over time, we discover skills and loves that we never knew existed.
When you become an editor let me know, I could use one of those. Then again, let me know when you're out of beauty school I could use a good haircut. ;)
I regret to inform you that I am not the slip n slider you thought I was. Perhaps it is another reader you are thinking of? I know, I shouldn't end a sentence, interrogative or not with a preposition. It's not an official grammar rule, but I usually like to abide by the rule nonetheless.
Speaking of grammar rules and MLA style, has anything major changed over the years regarding MLA rules? I keep my Pocket Keys for Writers that I got in college in my desk for when I might need it. So far in about seven years I have referred to it only once. And I didn't find the answer in the booklet.
Actually the preposition ending thing I'm ok on. ;) Ok well sometimes. I think it's one of those nails on the chalkboard rules for some people. Those who care, are rabid about it. Me? I try to avoid it, but sometimes (as in you're case) it's excusable and there's no way around it. You can find the rule in some reference books ( I believe even Writer's Digest mentions it in a few issues).
Your MLA guide is newer than mine. Mine is a grammar Handbook from 1993, The Borzoi Handbook for Writers . It's been my go to book for everything outside my limited grammar grasp. I haven't even looked at the MLA segment since college. There's also an APA section that I don't think I've ever used. The book now sits in my writers' group briefcase, because I never know what they're going to ask. Our last big arguement was over "Hare Brained" vs. "Hair Brained." The grammar guide was no help. The answer is rabbit, not follicle if you're keeping score.
And one last thing. I hate to tell you I'm right and you're wrong about yourself--ok, hate is the wrong word. I don't enjoy? No that's still a lie... ;)
But anyway, your walking a slip n' slidian slippery slope. (yeah, you're not gonna find "slidian in ANY language guide outside the one I rewrite daily). this is a quote from you post on the "Friendly Divorce" blog (10/15 first comment)
"We play video games, watch cartoons, jump rope, play with the pogo stick, slip n slide, etc. The list is endless."
So you were the slipper/slider I thought you were. At least thats what you said. You weren't just trying to impress me with mad mommy fun skills that didn't exist, were you? I suppose you don't watch Bugs Bunny either do you? ;)
Okay, so I did say that, and I meant it, sort of. We do participate in the above mentioned outdoor water activities. Not only do we set up the slip and slide, but we "bowl" with our kids. We have a three lane slip and slide, and we throw the kids to see who goes further.
Which is correct: further or farther?
I'll elaborate more tomorrow. I need to wake up early.
As an adverb or adjective, either further or farther is correct. As a verb you can only further something. So, in your case it's up to you. You can either throw your children further or farther, whichever child protection services will allow.
I do find the thought of child bowling amusing, if not something for them to see a shrink over later. It's nice for a parent to leave a lasting gift like that. ;)
My parents threw lawn darts at us. We got over it, but my sister still walks with a limp. Ok, they never did that, I just had nothing to compete with human bowling balls. What do you use as pins, or is this more of a distance sport? Have you tried kiddie shuffleboard or curling? I'm interested in furthering the aforementioned discussion.
You make it sound so...abusive. Well, maybe I did, but I didn't mean it that way. I was sleepy. I should have re-read what I wrote.
We don't throw them around like rag dolls. Instead of them running and hitting the ground and sliding, we give them the momentum necessary to slide. They like it; they go faster and farther. It's win-win all around. I assure you, we are very gentle with the kids. It didn't start out as a game. They wanted one of us to help them get all the way down to the end. Being the competitive children they are, they started the competition to see who could get the farthest.
I was going to add that One or both of us eventually ends up sliding. Unfortunately, it's sort of like childbirth in that somehow I always forget how painful it is. I forget how hard the ground really is and vow never to do that again unless someone invents a cushion. I guarantee I'll forget the pain by next summer, unless I'm pregnant and then I won't be able to participate.
Sorry. I should have warned you. I see the world slightly askew. Literal, figurative, intended, implied, it all enters the processor of my mind and comes out a frothy puree. I don't think you said anything abusive, but then again the words "Throwing children" mixed with a "further" discussion, can't help but start things whirring.
Of course you don't intend to hurt your children. I don't have any, but if there's anything I learned, it's that kids like everything further and faster, and that kids are durable. Which is really good considering the further faster thing. No, Slip n' Slide Bowling is a game, played with love. That much is obvious, even to my mind.
So planning a bigger family huh? I swear, you're family life is like the rainbow contrasting my foreboding sarcasm. Way to go.
Actually I was referring to this:
"Unfortunately, it's sort of like childbirth in that somehow I always forget how painful it is."
I was meaning that either I will forget the pain of slip and sliding or the pain of childbirth. It was supposed to be a joke, sort of. I should give up humor.
Oh, and I would LOVE to have another child, but we're neither planning nor preventing at the time. Whatever happens.
Never give up on the humor! It's what makes life enjoyable. If you can't laugh at everything it all gets too serious. It's like singing, even if people don't appreciate your style, you need to let it out: In the shower, in the car, wherever. Screw 'em if they can't take an off color joke or an off key melody.
I think I missed the joke because the set-up line ("unfortunately...") was so far from the punch line. It was kind of like a hidden path next to an obvious road. Readers always follow the road. If you want them to see the path you have either cover the road or smack them in the face with a sign. I prefer the smack. The prop adds a touch of vaudeville to mix. Then again, I'm only half as funny as I think I am. It's a good thing I amuse myself.
I always wanted kids. It was a tough choice when I got married. I knew she didn't want them. I had to decide what I wanted more. I will give MyUnwife this though: she was honest about the issue. It's not like she tried to trap me or anything.
I think it was a bigger burden on my marriage than I expected. I never stopped wanting kids. I always wanted my own to play with, and to pass on everything I've learned along the way. That wasn't what MyUnwife wanted, and although I never consciously did anything, it's possible that my subconscious actions were too much. I don't know. One of those questions without answers, I suppose. Like the ones I used to hate as a kid. The kind my Dad used to say, "go look it up," or "go ask your mother."
I asked her. She doesn't have the answer either. How 'bout you? Got any motherly advice?
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