Ghosts of Christmas Past

Remember when no one shared photos of Christmas morning because they were all bed-headed and crusty-eyed?

Remember when “sharing photos” meant getting your film developed and handing someone a photo album or just a pile of prints to flip through?

Remember slide shows?

Remember when your dad set up the camcorder in the living room to record the opening of the presents and then no one ever watched it?

Ever?

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Writing Exercise: A Rose by Any Other Name

Do you know anyone named Rose? First name or last name. A dog, a cat–anyone? What about famous people–Charlie Rose, for example. Or Rosemary Clooney. Or someone who just reminds you of roses.

Well, I had a first grade teacher named Mrs. Rose. Come to think of it, I have no idea what her first name was. That makes me sad. But I do remember her quite vividly, and I’ve decided that she’s the inspiration for this week’s writing exercise. I’m going to write about her; you write about your Rose (real or imaginary).

As usual: five minutes. Go. (And remember to share yours in the comments!)

Muttereeickle

I love it so much, I make crazy faces.

When I was a kid, I had a trademark sandwich. I called it the muttereese because its filling was comprised of:

1. Mustard
2. Butter
3. Cheese

As I got older and my palate got more sophisticated, I added pickles. Thus it became the muttereeickle.

The other day I was poking around my kitchen looking for lunch and it hit me: a huge craving for muttereeickle. Except, instead of store-bought bread (usually buttermilk white or potato), I cut a couple slices from my loaf of homemade sourdough. Instead of Velveeta or Kraft processed cheese food, I used medium cheddar. Instead of dill pickles, I used bread and butter. (Funny, since I forgot about the actual butter, which really wasn’t necessary anyway). I thought about classing up the mustard, too, but in the end I went for good old French’s yellow.

Oh. my. god. Oh my god, you guys! (Ten points if you get that reference.) It was so good. To use a vocab word I hadn’t learned when I created the original, it was sublime. And maybe it sounds weird to you. And maybe you think I’m hormonal. Maybe it sounds like a pregnancy craving (hallelujah, it is not–one kid on each arm is enough for me, thanks.) But if you like sharp, tangy flavors like I do (hail the glory of the salt and vinegar potato chip!) you will love it. Because I love it. If I hadn’t just had lunch, I’d go make one right now.

The Boy’s Year (and mine) in Favorite Facebook Statuses (The Requisite End-of-Year List)

January (8 months):

How many times a day can I say, “Books are for reading, not for eating?”

Especially common in parents with infants:

clinomania (n): excessive desire to stay in bed