(Copyright (c) 2012 Cynthia Shenette) Sometimes my kid makes me laugh. The other night he said to my husband, "Wow, Mitt Romney is older than you!" Wow, indeed. Another amusing moment came a while back when we were out to dinner. My husband ordered extra broccoli with his entree. When our meals finally arrived my son said, "I don't even like being NEAR broccoli!" Given that kids really do say the darndest things it has finally occurred to me to write some of this stuff down, and not just just the kid comments either.
My mom wasn't an overly funny person, but every once in a while she would come out with something that would just would crack me up. One day when my son was about two or three he and I stopped by for a visit. I don't remember exactly what my son did (He probably burped or pooped on command or something.), but whatever it was my mom was sure that he had just displayed absolute brilliance in doing it. Mom said to me, "He's a genius! I just know it! Well, after all, his father is brilliant! Oh...and you're smart, too, you know." Gee, thanks Mom. Glad I took the time to get that master's degree.
Another time, before I was married, my soon-to-be husband sent me some flowers or made some kind of romantic gesture or something. Again, I don't remember exactly what, but whatever it was it impressed my mom enough to comment, "I don't know where you'd find another one like that one. He's not like those other clowns you dated." Mom was never one to mince words, but in this particular case I'll admit she was right. Oh, and if any of those aforementioned "clowns" ever happen to read this post, well, enough said.
Have you written down family comments for posterity? If so, which comments did you choose and why? I'm glad I finally thought of it. Hey, I'm smart, too, you know...
Other Posts You Might Like:
Confessions of a Lunch Box Trader...
Leader of the Pack: My Life With Dogs
What The Dickens, Or How to Blow Up a Duck
What the Dickens 2, Or More Tales from Hell's Kitchen
Showing posts with label Humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Humor. Show all posts
Confessions of a Lunch Box Trader...
(This post was originally written in September 2010; Copyright (c) 2010 Cynthia Shenette)
"But mom, juice boxes are so kindergarten."
So said my son a while back. Who knew? I wondered why he kept bringing juice boxes home in his lunch box every day rather than drinking them. Apparently, when you're in second grade, squishy pack drinks are way more cool. Sometimes I have trouble trying to keep up with what's in and what's out snack-wise, AND keep it healthy. "Flavor Blasted" Pepperidge Farm Goldfish, in. Regular Pepperidge Farm Goldfish, out. Sweets, in. Yogurt, out. Fruit, definitely out. How can I compete? "Mom, did you know Johnny has a Cosmic Brownie for morning snack. A Cosmic Brownie," he adds for emphasis. At 10:20 in the morning? I don't think so. "But mom, they're cosmic." Yeah, right. They might be cosmic but they're not gonna happen, and certainly not at 10:20 in the morning.
Believe me, I feel his pain. You see, I was a lunch box trader. There, I said it. You probably knew a kid like me--the pathetic kid with the apple. Yup, that was me. I was the kid sitting at that table in the gymacafatorium with my bruised apple rolling around at the bottom of my metal Peanuts lunch box. Squished tuna sandwich wrapped in wax paper. No mayo. Frozen milk bought at school. No soda for this kid. Mom was a woman ahead of her time. She wanted me to be healthy. I just wanted a Twinkie. Oh, how I envied those kids with the Twinkies. Why couldn't I have a Twinkie like everyone else?
Years later, when I was in my twenties, I finally confessed to my mom about the trading thing. She was shocked. Shocked! "Some kid was perfectly happy to get that apple," she said. Frankly, I could never figure out why anybody wanted my apple. Actually, I still can't. Even today, given the choice of a Twinkie or an apple, I'd go with the Twinkie in a heartbeat if I didn't know any better. Today we have cholesterol. Ah, those innocent days of youth.
I hate to admit it, but yes, I've become my mother. Once I became a mom I knew it was just a matter of time. I hear stuff coming out of my mouth that my mother use to say. And despite that, NO, my son will NOT be taking a Cosmic Brownie for morning snack. I don't care if everyone does it. NO Cosmic Brownie. End of story.
What was in your lunch box? Were you the apple, or were you the Twinkie? I really want to know...
Submitted for the 122nd edition of the Carnival of Genealogy.
Other Posts You Might Like:
Flu 1918 (Part 1 of 3) - Amanuensis Monday
The Psychic Next Door (Part 1 of 2)
(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: Polka Time!
Amanuensis Monday: Clairvoyants and Distractions
"But mom, juice boxes are so kindergarten."
So said my son a while back. Who knew? I wondered why he kept bringing juice boxes home in his lunch box every day rather than drinking them. Apparently, when you're in second grade, squishy pack drinks are way more cool. Sometimes I have trouble trying to keep up with what's in and what's out snack-wise, AND keep it healthy. "Flavor Blasted" Pepperidge Farm Goldfish, in. Regular Pepperidge Farm Goldfish, out. Sweets, in. Yogurt, out. Fruit, definitely out. How can I compete? "Mom, did you know Johnny has a Cosmic Brownie for morning snack. A Cosmic Brownie," he adds for emphasis. At 10:20 in the morning? I don't think so. "But mom, they're cosmic." Yeah, right. They might be cosmic but they're not gonna happen, and certainly not at 10:20 in the morning.
Believe me, I feel his pain. You see, I was a lunch box trader. There, I said it. You probably knew a kid like me--the pathetic kid with the apple. Yup, that was me. I was the kid sitting at that table in the gymacafatorium with my bruised apple rolling around at the bottom of my metal Peanuts lunch box. Squished tuna sandwich wrapped in wax paper. No mayo. Frozen milk bought at school. No soda for this kid. Mom was a woman ahead of her time. She wanted me to be healthy. I just wanted a Twinkie. Oh, how I envied those kids with the Twinkies. Why couldn't I have a Twinkie like everyone else?
Years later, when I was in my twenties, I finally confessed to my mom about the trading thing. She was shocked. Shocked! "Some kid was perfectly happy to get that apple," she said. Frankly, I could never figure out why anybody wanted my apple. Actually, I still can't. Even today, given the choice of a Twinkie or an apple, I'd go with the Twinkie in a heartbeat if I didn't know any better. Today we have cholesterol. Ah, those innocent days of youth.
I hate to admit it, but yes, I've become my mother. Once I became a mom I knew it was just a matter of time. I hear stuff coming out of my mouth that my mother use to say. And despite that, NO, my son will NOT be taking a Cosmic Brownie for morning snack. I don't care if everyone does it. NO Cosmic Brownie. End of story.
What was in your lunch box? Were you the apple, or were you the Twinkie? I really want to know...
Submitted for the 122nd edition of the Carnival of Genealogy.
Other Posts You Might Like:
Flu 1918 (Part 1 of 3) - Amanuensis Monday
The Psychic Next Door (Part 1 of 2)
(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: Polka Time!
Amanuensis Monday: Clairvoyants and Distractions
Leader Of The Pack: My Life With Dogs
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| Me and Tippy |
I love my dog. And yes, she's MY dog.
"Do you know what YOUR dog did?" my husband always asks. YOUR dog.
"How come she's always MY dog when she's done something wrong?"
"She's always YOUR dog," is the usual response.
Just because there's an empty tuna can and a shoe in my bed does not automatically mean we need to blame the dog. Hey, it could have been a cat. My husband is always a little too eager to blame MY dog. He's a cat person. You know how they are.
I love my dog, but I will be the first to admit she's not going to win any intelligence contests. Let's just say if it was up to her to save the day, little Timmy wouldn't be getting out of that well any time soon. And while she did manage to receive her Basic Obedience Diploma my husband is convinced it was a classic case of grade inflation. What she might lack in brains she does make up for in beauty. You know how they say some people resemble their dogs? I should be so lucky. If I did I'd be tall, thin, and blond.
As far as she is concerned I am clearly the leader of the pack. My husband's theory is that it's because I picked her up from the dog rescue transport and brought her home. I SAVED her. I'm convinced it's because she hears me issuing the same series of commands to my husband and son. No! Off! Sit! Down! Out! Eat! Car! Clearly, I am in charge.
So when did my love affair with dogs begin?
I was four when I got my first dog, Tippy. She was a mutt, half beagle and half standard poodle. Of course this was back in the day when we still called them mutts. Now we have "designer dogs" (which are essentially the same thing but with a higher price tag). I remember my mom put a big cardboard box on the floor in the back seat of our station wagon for the puppy, and then she and my dad and I drove to some mysterious, pre-determined location to pick out our dog.
I don't remember the puppy place specifically, it's more of a vague recollection. I do remember the puppies though! Oh, my goodness, they were cute! There was a litter of tortoise-shell-colored, beagley-looking puppies! Puppies were everywhere, jumping and wagging their stubby little tails! I remember sitting on the floor with puppies in my lap and puppies all around me begging for attention. I played with them until my parents decided which puppy was to come home with us. I wanted them all!
Tippy was a wonderful dog. Brilliant really. Thankfully, she inherited the poodle brain (Sorry beagle people, but you know what I'm talking about...) For eleven years Tippy was my best friend. We did everything together. I didn't need a leash--she stayed right by my side. We had a give and take relationship. I played ball with her, and she let me dress her up in sunglasses and a hat. I was the leader of her pack. Even with living in the city my mom always said she never worried about my being outside alone if Tippy was with me. She knew that dog would never let anything happen to me. When someone smashed a window and tried to break into our house once they never made it past the outside back door. Or when I had a bad day or was picked on by some mean bully at school I knew I could talk to her about it even if I couldn't tell my mom or my dad.
Sometimes I think the world would be a better place if people were more like dogs. Dogs don't care what you look like. They don't care what color you are or what religion you are. They don't care if you can't walk or can't see. If you feed them and love them and throw them a ball once in a while you've got a friend for life. I still miss Tippy. Even after all of these years she still has a special place in my heart.
 |
| My Girl, Fall 2007 |
Now, it's time for a walk. Come here, girl!
Other Posts You Might Like:
A Comedy of Errors: My Family in the Census (Part 1 of 3)
Meditation: The Strength of Ordinary Women
2011 Favorites in Review: And The iGene Goes To...
Flash Back! The Life and Times of Francois Chenet (Greatly Abridged)
Books, Books, Books!
(Copyright (c) 2012 Cynthia Shenette) Books, Books, Books! was the title of my library presentation for my son's Cub Scout den last year. You want to work a tough crowd? Try entertaining a group of overly excited eight-year-old boys on a Friday night with a talk about books. Stand up is easier. While not as exciting as whittling and geocaching, the presentation went remarkably well. The boys all seemed to be interested and had a good time. When I was a kid I would have loved a Friday night at the library! I loved books and always had my head buried in a book. I read standing up, sitting down, or walking. The best summer afternoon was one spent at the library!
My first favorite author was Miriam Clark Potter. I loved her Mrs. Goose stories--Hello! Mrs. Goose, Just Mrs. Goose, No, No, Mrs. Goose, Our Mrs. Goose, Goodness, Mrs. Goose! My favorite book in third grade was Charlotte's Web. I read it over and over. Fourth grade--Little Women. Fifth grade--Johnny Tremain. Sixth grade was a four way tie--the Little House series, Constance by Patricia Clapp, The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare, and Star Girl by Henry Winterfield. I also loved fairy tales--the Brothers Grimm, Hans Christian Andersen, The Red Fairy Book, The Blue Fairy Book. My grandmother hated the fairy tales. She thought I'd find them too scary. No way. I loved when Cinderella's step-sister chopped off her toes to fit her foot into Cinderella's glass slipper. They don't write kid's stories like that any more...
In junior high my best friend gave me a Barbara Cartland romance for my birthday. I was hooked. According to the Barbara Cartland website, Dame Barbara wrote 723 books during her lifetime, and I think I read them all (or maybe it just seems like I did). How can you not love books with titles like The Wicked Marquis, The Dangerous Duke, and The Elusive Earl? Then there were the "love" books--An Arrow Of Love, Lucky In Love, The Problems Of Love, Conquered By Love. I also read Hungry for Love, The Race for Love, Prisoner of Love, The Karma of Love, and The Treasure Is Love, among many (many) others. I developed my love (sorry) for alliteration and ellipses in writing thanks to Barbara Cartland.
By the time I hit high school I was ready to delve into more "serious" literature. I discovered the Harlequin Romance. I loved the exotic settings, the breathless women, and the imperious men (How often does one actually get to use the word imperious except when discussing a Harlequin Romance?) I worked at a local department store through my high school years, and on Friday night after work I'd stop at the grocery store and pick up a Harlequin from the revolving book rack at the front of the store. I'd start reading as soon as I got home and finish the book around two in the morning. On Saturday night the pattern would repeat.
During my college years I expanded my horizons and sampled the works of fantasy authors Terry Brooks and J.R.R. Tolkien, though my leisure reading was still primarily populated by my handsome Harlequin heroes (Alliteration. Thank you, Dame Barbara). As an English major my coursework focused on the heavy hitters of American and English literature--Mark Twain, William Shakespeare, and James Joyce. I loved Beowulf (Someone had to...), as well as the works of Charles Dickens (Great Expectations, Oliver Twist), the Brontes (Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights), and Jane Austen (Pride and Prejudice).
My reading tastes these days lean more towards historical mysteries, biographies, and histories. I haven't picked up a Harlequin in years. I've come full circle though. I'm back to reading children's literature, now with my son, though his taste definitely leans more towards nonfiction than mine ever did. His journey will be different than mine, but that's the great thing about books. Every story is different.
Submitted for the 118th edition of the Carnival of Genealogy.
Other Posts You Might Like:
A Little Slice of Heaven
2011 Favorites In Review: And The iGene Goes To...
Flash Back! The Life and Times of Francois Chenette (Greatly Abridged)
A Comedy of Errors: My Family in the Census (Part 1 of 3)
My first favorite author was Miriam Clark Potter. I loved her Mrs. Goose stories--Hello! Mrs. Goose, Just Mrs. Goose, No, No, Mrs. Goose, Our Mrs. Goose, Goodness, Mrs. Goose! My favorite book in third grade was Charlotte's Web. I read it over and over. Fourth grade--Little Women. Fifth grade--Johnny Tremain. Sixth grade was a four way tie--the Little House series, Constance by Patricia Clapp, The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare, and Star Girl by Henry Winterfield. I also loved fairy tales--the Brothers Grimm, Hans Christian Andersen, The Red Fairy Book, The Blue Fairy Book. My grandmother hated the fairy tales. She thought I'd find them too scary. No way. I loved when Cinderella's step-sister chopped off her toes to fit her foot into Cinderella's glass slipper. They don't write kid's stories like that any more...
In junior high my best friend gave me a Barbara Cartland romance for my birthday. I was hooked. According to the Barbara Cartland website, Dame Barbara wrote 723 books during her lifetime, and I think I read them all (or maybe it just seems like I did). How can you not love books with titles like The Wicked Marquis, The Dangerous Duke, and The Elusive Earl? Then there were the "love" books--An Arrow Of Love, Lucky In Love, The Problems Of Love, Conquered By Love. I also read Hungry for Love, The Race for Love, Prisoner of Love, The Karma of Love, and The Treasure Is Love, among many (many) others. I developed my love (sorry) for alliteration and ellipses in writing thanks to Barbara Cartland.
By the time I hit high school I was ready to delve into more "serious" literature. I discovered the Harlequin Romance. I loved the exotic settings, the breathless women, and the imperious men (How often does one actually get to use the word imperious except when discussing a Harlequin Romance?) I worked at a local department store through my high school years, and on Friday night after work I'd stop at the grocery store and pick up a Harlequin from the revolving book rack at the front of the store. I'd start reading as soon as I got home and finish the book around two in the morning. On Saturday night the pattern would repeat.
During my college years I expanded my horizons and sampled the works of fantasy authors Terry Brooks and J.R.R. Tolkien, though my leisure reading was still primarily populated by my handsome Harlequin heroes (Alliteration. Thank you, Dame Barbara). As an English major my coursework focused on the heavy hitters of American and English literature--Mark Twain, William Shakespeare, and James Joyce. I loved Beowulf (Someone had to...), as well as the works of Charles Dickens (Great Expectations, Oliver Twist), the Brontes (Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights), and Jane Austen (Pride and Prejudice).
My reading tastes these days lean more towards historical mysteries, biographies, and histories. I haven't picked up a Harlequin in years. I've come full circle though. I'm back to reading children's literature, now with my son, though his taste definitely leans more towards nonfiction than mine ever did. His journey will be different than mine, but that's the great thing about books. Every story is different.
Submitted for the 118th edition of the Carnival of Genealogy.
Other Posts You Might Like:
A Little Slice of Heaven
2011 Favorites In Review: And The iGene Goes To...
Flash Back! The Life and Times of Francois Chenette (Greatly Abridged)
A Comedy of Errors: My Family in the Census (Part 1 of 3)
Flash Back! The Life and Times of Francois Chenet (Greatly Abridged)
(Copyright (c) 2012 Cynthia Shenette) Well, it's Carnival of Genealogy time again, and our assignment for this month is to create a "flash" family history of one of our ancestors in 300 words or less. I decided to write about my great-grandfather Francois Chenet. To use Francois as the subject for my flash family history is absurd to say the least, given the...um...details of Francois' life, but the concept was both fun and challenging. Let's just say I tried my best to capture the highlights (cough) of Francois relatively long life. While my flash family history is short, I think I've done a reasonable job in capturing the essence of the man. What do you think?
Francois Chenet (18 Apr 1813- 22 Mar 1886)
My great-grandfather Francois Chenet was born in St-Denis-sur-Richelieu, Quebec in 1813. He married Marie-Marguerite Charron in 1836. Their first child Marguerite was born in 1837. Their second child Justine was born in 1839. Their third child Jean-Baptiste was born in 1840. Their fourth child Julienne was born 1841. Their fifth child Celina was born in 1842. Their sixth child Philomene was born in 1844. Their seventh child Francois was born 1845. Their eighth child Marie-Reine was born in 1847. Their ninth child Marie-Vitaline was born in 1848. Their tenth child Joseph was born in 1849. In 1850 Marie-Marguerite died.
Francois married Theotiste Tetreault (1852). Their first child Francois-Xavier was born in 1852. Their second child Louis was born in 1854. Their third child Louis-Napoleon was born 1856. Their fourth child Toussaint was born in 1858. In 1859 Theotiste died.
Francois married Marie-Louise Dubreuil (1859). Their first child Marie-Louise-Delima was born in 1860. Francois enlisted in the Union army (1863). Their second child Marie was born in 1864. Francois was wounded at Cold Harbor (1864). The Civil War ended (1865). In 1866 Marie-Louise died.
Francois married my great-grandmother Lucie Touchette (1867). Their first child Victorine-Lucy was born in 1868. Their second child Francois-Adei was born in 1871. Their third child Joseph-Theodore-Hormidas (my grandfather, who became Frank. Go figure...) was born in 1873. Their fourth child Joseph was born in 1874. Their fifth child Marie-Josephine was born in 1876. Their sixth child Flavi-Joseph was born in 1878. Their seventh child Francois-Elzear was born in 1879. Their eighth child Marie-Delina-Vedora was born in 1882. Francois died in 1886.
And the women of Quebec breathed a collective sigh of relief...
Submitted for the 115th edition of the Carnival of Genealogy.
Other Posts You Might Like:
Tombstone Tuesday: Francois Chenette, Civil War Soldier
Photo Story: Dad and a Mystery Solved
Fascinating Ladies
More Than Meets the Eye (Again): A Tuesday's Tip Follow Up!
Francois Chenet (18 Apr 1813- 22 Mar 1886)
My great-grandfather Francois Chenet was born in St-Denis-sur-Richelieu, Quebec in 1813. He married Marie-Marguerite Charron in 1836. Their first child Marguerite was born in 1837. Their second child Justine was born in 1839. Their third child Jean-Baptiste was born in 1840. Their fourth child Julienne was born 1841. Their fifth child Celina was born in 1842. Their sixth child Philomene was born in 1844. Their seventh child Francois was born 1845. Their eighth child Marie-Reine was born in 1847. Their ninth child Marie-Vitaline was born in 1848. Their tenth child Joseph was born in 1849. In 1850 Marie-Marguerite died.
Francois married Theotiste Tetreault (1852). Their first child Francois-Xavier was born in 1852. Their second child Louis was born in 1854. Their third child Louis-Napoleon was born 1856. Their fourth child Toussaint was born in 1858. In 1859 Theotiste died.
Francois married Marie-Louise Dubreuil (1859). Their first child Marie-Louise-Delima was born in 1860. Francois enlisted in the Union army (1863). Their second child Marie was born in 1864. Francois was wounded at Cold Harbor (1864). The Civil War ended (1865). In 1866 Marie-Louise died.
Francois married my great-grandmother Lucie Touchette (1867). Their first child Victorine-Lucy was born in 1868. Their second child Francois-Adei was born in 1871. Their third child Joseph-Theodore-Hormidas (my grandfather, who became Frank. Go figure...) was born in 1873. Their fourth child Joseph was born in 1874. Their fifth child Marie-Josephine was born in 1876. Their sixth child Flavi-Joseph was born in 1878. Their seventh child Francois-Elzear was born in 1879. Their eighth child Marie-Delina-Vedora was born in 1882. Francois died in 1886.
And the women of Quebec breathed a collective sigh of relief...
Submitted for the 115th edition of the Carnival of Genealogy.
Other Posts You Might Like:
Tombstone Tuesday: Francois Chenette, Civil War Soldier
Photo Story: Dad and a Mystery Solved
Fascinating Ladies
More Than Meets the Eye (Again): A Tuesday's Tip Follow Up!
2011 Favorites In Review: And The iGene Goes To...
Welcome to the Carnival of Genealogy's 5th Annual iGene Awards hosted by Jasia at the Creative Gene. I am honored to present this year's awards for Heritage Zen in the categories of Best Documentary, Best Picture, Best Comedy, Best Screenplay, and Best Biography!
As you can see I have once again dipped into my costume closet for an appropriate dress for the occasion. For this year's ceremony my wardrobe was inspired by Whoopi Goldberg's turn as Queen Elizabeth I during the 1999 Academy Awards. I'll be the first to admit, Whoopi pulled off the look way better than I do, but given my limited opportunity to wear Renaissance attire I figured I run with it. Now I know you are saying, "Where's the Elizabethan collar?" You caught me during an impromptu moment. The dress does have an E-collar (no, really it does), but I took it off to relax backstage before the show (which is kind of like the Elizabethans' version of letting your hair down, if you know what I'm saying). Enough with the idle fashion chatter. There will be plenty of red carpet photo ops after the show...
Now a brief thank you...
I'd like to say thank you to iGene host Jasia at Creative Gene and the entire staff at the Carnival of Genealogy for once again putting together another great show (That production number with the kick line was amazing, wasn't it folks!?!), the Academy (of Genealogists and Family Historians), my friends on the Frustrated Footnote Committee (I know I promised to try try harder last year, but I really mean it this time!), Thomas MacEntee at GeneaBloggers for hosting the Advent Calendar of Christmas Memories (because frankly where else could I share my stories of food preparation mayhem with a wider audience two years in a row! Thomas, buddy, this one's for you!), my family (especially my (still) long-suffering husband (Love ya honey!), and my son the Lego guru (Don't forget your homework son! Spelling test tomorrow!)), and finally a BIG shout out to the AFC Championship New England Patriots who are headed to the Super Bowl on Sunday! GO PATS!!!
Well
THE FINE PRINT: In an effort of full disclosure I feel it's my duty to disclose the sad truth that my husband seems to feel I have way too much time on my hands (I'm beginning to suspect he is right...).
Submitted for the 114th edition of the Carnival of Genealogy.
Other Posts You Might Like:
And The Award Goes To...
Chopin Rising
The Rope Pull - Wordless Wednesday
Heritage Zen Dives In: NaBloPoMo!
What the Dickens 2, Or More Tales from Hell's Kitchen - Advent Calendar, Grab Bag
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"Do you know the Poulterer's, in the next street but one, at the corner?" Scrooge inquired.
"I should hope I did," replied the lad.
"An intelligent boy!'' said Scrooge. "A remarkable boy! Do you know whether they've sold the prize Turkey that was hanging up there? Not the little prize Turkey; the big one?"
"What, the one as big as me?" returned the boy.
Bigger isn't always better, especially when it involves a turkey. I learned this the hard way.
Yes, Gentle Reader, It's Holiday Time Again!
Due to the popularity of last year's holiday post, What the Dickens, Or How to Blow Up a Duck, I have decided to return to Christmas Past to share more holiday tales of food preparation gone wrong.
I realize that whenever you do Part 2 of something it never seems to live up to the audience's expectations of Part 1. Even when Part 2 is good it never quite achieves the same level of greatness as Part 1. So, Gentle Reader, with that said it's time to lower your expectations and once again journey with me back in time
Christmas 1985, Or How to Lose Your Cookies
Several friends and I had a brilliant idea! Let's have a Christmas cookie baking party! I was dating this guy at the time who offered to host the party at his apartment. Each of us brought a cookie ingredient (flour, sugar, eggs) and a recipe for batch of cookies. The plan was to make a huge batch of cookies which we would all share. One friend who was a bartender thought it would be fun to mix up a couple of pitchers of Blue Hawaiians to liven things up a little.
Well it didn't take long for my friends and I to realize that we really hadn't thought through the logistics of our cookie baking activity. A small apartment, multiple batches of cookies, one oven, limited counter space, and a large batch of Blue Hawaiians were not exactly the ingredients for success. We were quickly overwhelmed by dirty dishes, empty cookie sheets, full cookie sheets, cookie dough, and all of the already baked cookies. There were cookies everywhere--cookies on the counters, cookies on the table, cookies on top of the refrigerator! To put it in perspective think Lucy and Ethel in the candy factory with peanut butter blossoms instead of bonbons.
As the evening wore on my friends and I were getting desperate (plus I suspect the Blue Hawaiians were starting to kick in). What to do, what to do? An idea! Why couldn't we rest some of the hot cookies still on cookie sheets on a window sill to cool? They would be out of the way and cool off at the same time. Did I mention my boyfriend's apartment was in a three-decker? Yep, you guessed it. The cookies fell out the window. I don't remember how many flights. Let's just say the cookie incident kind of foreshadowed my relationship with the boyfriend (which was also out the window) a few weeks later.
Christmas 2010, Or You'll Shoot Your Eye Out Kid
My husband and son LOVE cranberry sauce. So do I, so every year I make home-made cranberry-orange relish. My son is somewhat spoiled and won't eat the stuff from the can which is fine with me. I'm always looking for ways to remove high fructose corn syrup from our diets. I'm happy to make my own which only contains three simple ingredients--cranberries, oranges, and sugar. How can you go wrong with only three ingredients?
I've come to think of kitchen appliances as power tools for the kitchen. A food processor is not for the faint of heart. I hadn't really thought too much about it until last year's mishap. I pulled out my food processor (which I rarely use I might add) put the cranberries in, put the cover on, and turned the power on. Unfortunately I forgot one thing. You know that cap that goes over the little tube you feed stuff into? I forgot to put that on. Oops. The result--a rapid-fire cranberry machine gun shooting cranberries all over the kitchen! My cranberries could have given Ralphie's Red Ryder BB Gun a run for it's money any day.
Thanksgiving 1989, Or More Problems With Poultry
Now, Gentle Reader, I know you are asking, "So what happened with the turkey?" I kind of alluded to what I have come to think of as "the unfortunate flaming turkey incident" at the end of my duck story. To be perfectly honest, I have no idea what happened other than the turkey was really big and Mom was using one of those cooking bags again. Clearly we learned nothing from the exploding duck episode. All I know is Mom opened the oven door, and flames shot out! Still being the nervous type, I went for the kitchen fire extinguisher, again. Mom, still not being the nervous type, told me to put away the fire extinguisher, again. She closed the oven door, and the flames went out. After the fire was out Mom said in a calm voice, "Once you cut off the oxygen the fire will go out." Good to know. The turkey was fine, but I wasn't doing so well, again. And yes, we did have that turkey for dinner.
Do you have a Christmas tale of culinary chaos? A souffle that flopped? A fondue that didn't? Do you fear Christmas Dinner Yet to Come? Feel free to leave a comment. After all, misery loves company. Now I'm off to Home Depot to buy safety goggles. I need to make cranberry sauce...
God Bless Us, Everyone
Other Posts You Might Like:
A Comedy of Errors: My Family in the Census (Part 1 of 3)
And the Award Goes To...
Tuesday's Tip: A Tale of Two Indexers
Monday Madness: The Stuff We Throw Away, and...
What the Dickens, Or How to Blow Up a Duck - Advent Calendar, Holiday Foods
(This is a re post of a piece written for the Advent Calendar of Christmas Memories in December 2010.)
(Copyright (c) 2010 Cynthia Shenette) "God Bless Us, Everyone." So says Tiny Tim in Charles Dickens' famous tale, A Christmas Carol. A fitting wrap up to a heart-warming story. Feast and food play an important part in the tale--the giant turkey, the plum pudding, the roast goose. I get the tingles just thinking about it. But not in a good way.
I read A Christmas Carol for the first time in eighth grade English class. Oh, that story made such an impression on me. One of the other English classes, not mine of course, actually got to stage a Dickens-style feast, complete with costumes, in our junior high cafeteria. Why couldn't my class do that? No Salisbury steak, instant mashed potatoes, and gray green beans in the cafeteria that day, but a real honest to goodness Dickens-style feast. I was so jealous.
I must have mentioned my disappointment to my mom. She came up with a brilliant idea. Why couldn't we stage our own Dickens feast right at home? She would make a goose and a couple of the other traditional English dishes for our celebration. Sounds good on paper right?
Well off mom went to the grocery store, but apparently back in the mid-1970s goose was hard to come by in Worcester, MA. No luck on the goose front. She did find a duck though. Mom figured that would be acceptable. I agreed. Mr. Dickens would most heartily approve. So home we went with our duck ready and willing to prepare our feast.
Mom, not knowing anything about duck, decided to prepare the duck the way she usually prepared turkey. This was back in the day when those turkey cooking bags were new to the grocery market. Mom was all for making things easier in the kitchen, so in went the duck, into a cooking bag. Mom also had heard that ducks can be kind of greasy, so she decided to put a trivet underneath the duck, inside the cooking bag so the grease could drip off into the bottom of the pan. Mom tied up the bag, and put the entire bag and it's contents into a pan, and faster than you can say Bleak House, the duck was in the oven. Our Dickens of a feast would be on the table in no time.
There was one fatal flaw in this plan. You knew there had to be one, right? Mom forgot to cut holes in the cooking bag to let steam out. Oops. While the duck was cooking away in the oven I was in the kitchen helping mom to prepare the rest of the meal. All of a sudden boom! An explosion! I looked over to the stove. Through the glass oven door I saw the duck, bag, trivet and all, blow up, hit the top of the oven, and plop back down in the pan! Being the nervous type I went for the kitchen fire extinguisher. Mom, not being the nervous type, told me to put away the fire extinguisher. The duck was fine. I wasn't doing so well.
Later on that evening, we did have our feast. Duck and all. Even after it blew up it turned out fine. I know this may come as a surprise, but we never had duck again. Lesson learned. NEVER forget to cut holes in the cooking bag.
Aah, those warm holiday memories of Christmas Past. Now let me tell you about the time my mom set fire to the turkey...
God Bless Us, Everyone.
Other Posts You Might Like:
Reflecting on My American Experience this Thanksgiving
Tuesday's Tip: A Tale of Two Indexers
Madness Monday: The Stuff We Throw Away, and...
A Comedy of Errors: My Family in the Census (Part 1 of 3)
I read A Christmas Carol for the first time in eighth grade English class. Oh, that story made such an impression on me. One of the other English classes, not mine of course, actually got to stage a Dickens-style feast, complete with costumes, in our junior high cafeteria. Why couldn't my class do that? No Salisbury steak, instant mashed potatoes, and gray green beans in the cafeteria that day, but a real honest to goodness Dickens-style feast. I was so jealous.
I must have mentioned my disappointment to my mom. She came up with a brilliant idea. Why couldn't we stage our own Dickens feast right at home? She would make a goose and a couple of the other traditional English dishes for our celebration. Sounds good on paper right?
Well off mom went to the grocery store, but apparently back in the mid-1970s goose was hard to come by in Worcester, MA. No luck on the goose front. She did find a duck though. Mom figured that would be acceptable. I agreed. Mr. Dickens would most heartily approve. So home we went with our duck ready and willing to prepare our feast.
Mom, not knowing anything about duck, decided to prepare the duck the way she usually prepared turkey. This was back in the day when those turkey cooking bags were new to the grocery market. Mom was all for making things easier in the kitchen, so in went the duck, into a cooking bag. Mom also had heard that ducks can be kind of greasy, so she decided to put a trivet underneath the duck, inside the cooking bag so the grease could drip off into the bottom of the pan. Mom tied up the bag, and put the entire bag and it's contents into a pan, and faster than you can say Bleak House, the duck was in the oven. Our Dickens of a feast would be on the table in no time.
There was one fatal flaw in this plan. You knew there had to be one, right? Mom forgot to cut holes in the cooking bag to let steam out. Oops. While the duck was cooking away in the oven I was in the kitchen helping mom to prepare the rest of the meal. All of a sudden boom! An explosion! I looked over to the stove. Through the glass oven door I saw the duck, bag, trivet and all, blow up, hit the top of the oven, and plop back down in the pan! Being the nervous type I went for the kitchen fire extinguisher. Mom, not being the nervous type, told me to put away the fire extinguisher. The duck was fine. I wasn't doing so well.
Later on that evening, we did have our feast. Duck and all. Even after it blew up it turned out fine. I know this may come as a surprise, but we never had duck again. Lesson learned. NEVER forget to cut holes in the cooking bag.
Aah, those warm holiday memories of Christmas Past. Now let me tell you about the time my mom set fire to the turkey...
God Bless Us, Everyone.
Other Posts You Might Like:
Reflecting on My American Experience this Thanksgiving
Tuesday's Tip: A Tale of Two Indexers
Madness Monday: The Stuff We Throw Away, and...
A Comedy of Errors: My Family in the Census (Part 1 of 3)
Heritage Zen Dives In: NaBloPoMo!
(Copyright (c) 2011 Cynthia Shenette) This is usually one of the busiest times of year for me, so I can't believe I'm signing on for this, but NaBloPoMo here I come. I've already started out well haven't I? According to the NaBloPoMo rules I should post every day for the month of November. I've already missed November 1. That's kind of like the rest of my life, a day late an a dollar short as my dad use to say. Well, I'll try to make up for it by posting twice today.
I'm going to take NaBloPoMo and put a slightly different twist on it. I'm going to tell my entire family history, starting with my great-grandparents, with photographs over the month of November. I've been thinking about this for a while, but I never seem to get around to actually doing it. I don't really have time for it right now, but I'm going to live on the edge and step out of my comfort zone. (This is as close to the edge of anything as I am likely to get, by the way. I'm sure you know people like me--the mom who checks out the safety equipment before letting her kid join the chess club and has hand sanitizer stuffed in every pocket. Yep, that's me.)
I have hundreds, perhaps thousands of great photos and slides, and could probably post a photo a day and not run out of images to post for several years. What's the old saying, a picture tells a thousand words? Well, that's a good thing, because the text in my posts will be minimal. Think of it as 30 consecutive days of Wordless Wednesdays in story form.
So here we go. I'm going to give NaBloPoMo a shot, and barring any unforeseen circumstances (like a call from my son's school saying my kid is throwing up and to come and collect him) will post a family photo each day for November. I'm throwing caution to the wind! Next year who knows, maybe I'll push the envelope even further and try bungee jumping or sky diving! Why the possibilities are endless!
Other Posts You Might Like:
A Slice of Life: Confessions of a Lunch Box Trader
A Comedy of Errors: My Family in the Census (Part 1 of 3)
Flu 1918 (Part 1 of 3) - Amanuensis Monday
Circus Girls are "Normal" - Amanuensis Monday
I'm going to take NaBloPoMo and put a slightly different twist on it. I'm going to tell my entire family history, starting with my great-grandparents, with photographs over the month of November. I've been thinking about this for a while, but I never seem to get around to actually doing it. I don't really have time for it right now, but I'm going to live on the edge and step out of my comfort zone. (This is as close to the edge of anything as I am likely to get, by the way. I'm sure you know people like me--the mom who checks out the safety equipment before letting her kid join the chess club and has hand sanitizer stuffed in every pocket. Yep, that's me.)
I have hundreds, perhaps thousands of great photos and slides, and could probably post a photo a day and not run out of images to post for several years. What's the old saying, a picture tells a thousand words? Well, that's a good thing, because the text in my posts will be minimal. Think of it as 30 consecutive days of Wordless Wednesdays in story form.
So here we go. I'm going to give NaBloPoMo a shot, and barring any unforeseen circumstances (like a call from my son's school saying my kid is throwing up and to come and collect him) will post a family photo each day for November. I'm throwing caution to the wind! Next year who knows, maybe I'll push the envelope even further and try bungee jumping or sky diving! Why the possibilities are endless!
Other Posts You Might Like:
A Slice of Life: Confessions of a Lunch Box Trader
A Comedy of Errors: My Family in the Census (Part 1 of 3)
Flu 1918 (Part 1 of 3) - Amanuensis Monday
Circus Girls are "Normal" - Amanuensis Monday
A Little Slice of Heaven
(Original Image and Text, Copyright (c) 2011 Cynthia Shenette) My mother-in-law can whip up a homemade pie crust in less time than it takes me to get a frozen one out of the box. As someone who's had more than my share of unfortunate crust mishaps, I can't tell you how much I admire her skill. Burnt edges, tough crusts, and soggy bottoms are my lot. My mother-in-law's crusts are tender and flaky. Perfect every time. Whenever we visit there is almost always a pie of some sort cooling on the counter to be offered for dessert during our stay. Strawberry rhubarb, cherry, apple, squash, and my favorite, blueberry. Yum!
I love blueberry pie. No, I mean I REALLY love blueberry pie. I've even been known to go blueberry picking at my in-laws' in the hope that my mother-in-law will make a blueberry pie upon my return. Shameless? Maybe. Effective? Definitely. Not that I haven't made my share of blueberry pies. Do you know the best part of making blueberry pie? Blueberry picking with my son. The funny thing is he doesn't like pie. He doesn't even like blueberries. I think he'll come around though. After all the love of pie is part of his genetic make up, kind of like his being Polish, Ukrainian, or French-Canadian. It's deep inside the DNA.
My mom made the world's best apple pie. She used just the right amount of cinnamon and brushed the crust with a little bit of milk before popping it in the oven. Is there anything that smells better than an apple pie baking in the oven on a cool fall day? When Mom took the apple pie out of the oven, it was perfectly browned and slightly sparkly from the sugar she sprinkled on the top before baking. Despite my best efforts, I've never been able to get a pie to turn out the same way as my mother's.
While I love to eat pie at home I also love to try regional specialties when we travel. A couple of years ago my family and I visited Lexington, KY, and I was pleasantly surprised by the delicious bourbon pecan pie offered on the hotel lunch buffet. I was amused on the first day when the buffet server offered me hush puppies with my lunch. I made the mistake of asking, "What's that?" His response, "Where might y'all be visiting us from?" Needless to say we bonded for the duration, especially when I kept coming back day after day for more hush puppies and yet another piece of that pecan pie.
While the bourbon pecan pie was yummy, I will say nothing can compare to my search for the best Key Lime pie in Key West. I was on a mission. I tried Key Lime pie everywhere. Sometimes twice a day. Frankly it was embarrassing. I tried it all--the good, the bad, the so so. The best was amazing. A traditional tart Key Lime custard inside a chocolate cookie crust, with a thin layer of chocolate ganache on top, whipped cream and lime slice on the side. I dream about that pie.
Once my husband and I were driving through the Arizona desert, giant cacti and desert as far as the eye could see. The legendary, "middle of nowhere." When we did return to small town civilization, we noticed what appeared to be a restaurant off to one side of the road and decided to stop for lunch. When we walked in I was an awe. Pie everywhere! Chocolate, coconut cream, lemon meringue. Cream pies, fruit pies. There was a dessert-go-round thing filled with pies and a refrigerated counter case with pies. Glass-covered cake stands lined the lunch counter. It was like a pie oasis in the vast Sonoran Desert. Over the years I've tried to find information on that pie place on the Internet, and every time without luck. Neither my husband nor I remember the name of the place, and we don't remember exactly where it was located. I've found a couple of places that seem like they might be the right one, but I'm just not sure. Sometimes I wonder if it was all a lemon meringue mirage.
While I love fruit pies, cream pies, and custard pies, I love savory pies as well. I love French-Canadian meat pie, tourtiere, during the Christmas season. I love chicken pie, turkey pie, and Guinness pie from the Irish restaurant nearby. On a slightly related note, can you guess my favorite Broadway musical? Yep, Sweeney Todd. How can you not love a tale of meat pie gone disturbingly wrong. Maybe I am just a wee bit obsessed.
What's your favorite kind of pie? Blueberries, raspberries, and peaches are in season. Make a pie today. You know you want to. And when you do, don't forget to invite me over. I'll just have a small piece, a sliver really. Ice cream? Sure. Do I mind if you have a second piece? No, not at all. Go ahead. You know you want to. And while you're at it, could you cut another small piece for me? Just a sliver, really...
Other Posts You Might Like:
Girls Just Wanna Have Fun...
Meditation: The Strength of Ordinary Women
Wordless Wednesday: Glorious Gladioli!
A Slice of Life: Confessions of a Lunch Box Trader
 |
| A Recent Effort: Strawberry Pie |
I love blueberry pie. No, I mean I REALLY love blueberry pie. I've even been known to go blueberry picking at my in-laws' in the hope that my mother-in-law will make a blueberry pie upon my return. Shameless? Maybe. Effective? Definitely. Not that I haven't made my share of blueberry pies. Do you know the best part of making blueberry pie? Blueberry picking with my son. The funny thing is he doesn't like pie. He doesn't even like blueberries. I think he'll come around though. After all the love of pie is part of his genetic make up, kind of like his being Polish, Ukrainian, or French-Canadian. It's deep inside the DNA.
My mom made the world's best apple pie. She used just the right amount of cinnamon and brushed the crust with a little bit of milk before popping it in the oven. Is there anything that smells better than an apple pie baking in the oven on a cool fall day? When Mom took the apple pie out of the oven, it was perfectly browned and slightly sparkly from the sugar she sprinkled on the top before baking. Despite my best efforts, I've never been able to get a pie to turn out the same way as my mother's.
While I love to eat pie at home I also love to try regional specialties when we travel. A couple of years ago my family and I visited Lexington, KY, and I was pleasantly surprised by the delicious bourbon pecan pie offered on the hotel lunch buffet. I was amused on the first day when the buffet server offered me hush puppies with my lunch. I made the mistake of asking, "What's that?" His response, "Where might y'all be visiting us from?" Needless to say we bonded for the duration, especially when I kept coming back day after day for more hush puppies and yet another piece of that pecan pie.
While the bourbon pecan pie was yummy, I will say nothing can compare to my search for the best Key Lime pie in Key West. I was on a mission. I tried Key Lime pie everywhere. Sometimes twice a day. Frankly it was embarrassing. I tried it all--the good, the bad, the so so. The best was amazing. A traditional tart Key Lime custard inside a chocolate cookie crust, with a thin layer of chocolate ganache on top, whipped cream and lime slice on the side. I dream about that pie.
Once my husband and I were driving through the Arizona desert, giant cacti and desert as far as the eye could see. The legendary, "middle of nowhere." When we did return to small town civilization, we noticed what appeared to be a restaurant off to one side of the road and decided to stop for lunch. When we walked in I was an awe. Pie everywhere! Chocolate, coconut cream, lemon meringue. Cream pies, fruit pies. There was a dessert-go-round thing filled with pies and a refrigerated counter case with pies. Glass-covered cake stands lined the lunch counter. It was like a pie oasis in the vast Sonoran Desert. Over the years I've tried to find information on that pie place on the Internet, and every time without luck. Neither my husband nor I remember the name of the place, and we don't remember exactly where it was located. I've found a couple of places that seem like they might be the right one, but I'm just not sure. Sometimes I wonder if it was all a lemon meringue mirage.
While I love fruit pies, cream pies, and custard pies, I love savory pies as well. I love French-Canadian meat pie, tourtiere, during the Christmas season. I love chicken pie, turkey pie, and Guinness pie from the Irish restaurant nearby. On a slightly related note, can you guess my favorite Broadway musical? Yep, Sweeney Todd. How can you not love a tale of meat pie gone disturbingly wrong. Maybe I am just a wee bit obsessed.
What's your favorite kind of pie? Blueberries, raspberries, and peaches are in season. Make a pie today. You know you want to. And when you do, don't forget to invite me over. I'll just have a small piece, a sliver really. Ice cream? Sure. Do I mind if you have a second piece? No, not at all. Go ahead. You know you want to. And while you're at it, could you cut another small piece for me? Just a sliver, really...
Other Posts You Might Like:
Girls Just Wanna Have Fun...
Meditation: The Strength of Ordinary Women
Wordless Wednesday: Glorious Gladioli!
A Slice of Life: Confessions of a Lunch Box Trader
A Comedy of Errors: My Family in the Census (Part 3 of 3)
(Copyright (c) 2011 Cynthia Shenette)
THE QUIZ
You saw this coming, didn't you? Alright students, are your No. 2 pencils at the ready? You have two minutes to complete the quiz. No peeking over your neighbor's shoulder. Eyes on your own work. No referring back to parts one and two of this post or your notes. Do your best.
You may begin...
Choose the best answer.
1. According to the 1900 U.S. Census Cynthia's great-grandfather, Antoni Bulak, and family lived in what American city:
A. Chicago, IL
B. Worcester, MA
C. Joliet, IL
D. All of the above
2. According to the U.S. Census Antoni Bulak can be found as:
A. Tony Bolak
B. Anthony Bullock
C. Athony Bulak
D. All of the above
3. According to the U.S. Census Antoni Bulak immigrated to the United States in:
A. 1895 and 1897
B. 1896 and 1899
C. 1895 and 1896
D. All of the above
4. According to the U.S. Census Cynthia's grandmother's first name is given as:
A. Antoinette
B. Anthony
C. Anna
D. All of the above
5. According to the U.S. Census Antoni Bulak lived in the following city and/or town at one point in time or another:
A. Joliet, IL
B. Oxford, MA
C. Worcester, MA
D. All of the above, and frankly I'm exhausted by it all.
True or False
6. It is impossible to be counted in the U.S. Census more than once: True or False
7. The U.S. Census NEVER enumerates dead people: True or False
8. All of the information found in the U.S. Census is correct: True or False
9. It's best to verify census information in more than one source if at all possible: True or False
10. I am really glad I am not related to Cynthia or any of those Bulak people: True or False
Time.
Let's see how you did. The correct answers are as follows: 1. (C) 2. (D) 3. (C) 4. (D) 5. (D) 6. (False) 7. (False) 8. (False) 9. (True) 10. (True), and if you did answer True to "10. I am really glad I am not related to Cynthia or any of those Bulak people" I can understand your frustration, but I will admit to being just a wee bit hurt.
This concludes our reading of "A Comedy of Errors: My Family in the Census." Be sure to check back for next week's A.P. (Advanced Placement) challenge: "Much Ado About Nothing, Or Finding Szerejkos, Radziewiczs, Kowalewskis, and Choronzaks in the U.S. Census."
A Smith, a Smith, my kingdom for a Smith!
Class dismissed.
A Comedy of Errors: My Family in the Census (Part 1 of 3)
A Comedy of Errors: My Family in the Census (Part 2 of 3)
Other Posts You Might Like:
A Slice of Life: Confessions of a Lunchbox Trader...
And The Award Goes To...
(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: The Play Elizabeth
Meditation: Family History
THE QUIZ
You saw this coming, didn't you? Alright students, are your No. 2 pencils at the ready? You have two minutes to complete the quiz. No peeking over your neighbor's shoulder. Eyes on your own work. No referring back to parts one and two of this post or your notes. Do your best.
You may begin...
Choose the best answer.
1. According to the 1900 U.S. Census Cynthia's great-grandfather, Antoni Bulak, and family lived in what American city:
A. Chicago, IL
B. Worcester, MA
C. Joliet, IL
D. All of the above
2. According to the U.S. Census Antoni Bulak can be found as:
A. Tony Bolak
B. Anthony Bullock
C. Athony Bulak
D. All of the above
3. According to the U.S. Census Antoni Bulak immigrated to the United States in:
A. 1895 and 1897
B. 1896 and 1899
C. 1895 and 1896
D. All of the above
4. According to the U.S. Census Cynthia's grandmother's first name is given as:
A. Antoinette
B. Anthony
C. Anna
D. All of the above
5. According to the U.S. Census Antoni Bulak lived in the following city and/or town at one point in time or another:
A. Joliet, IL
B. Oxford, MA
C. Worcester, MA
D. All of the above, and frankly I'm exhausted by it all.
True or False
6. It is impossible to be counted in the U.S. Census more than once: True or False
7. The U.S. Census NEVER enumerates dead people: True or False
8. All of the information found in the U.S. Census is correct: True or False
9. It's best to verify census information in more than one source if at all possible: True or False
10. I am really glad I am not related to Cynthia or any of those Bulak people: True or False
Time.
Let's see how you did. The correct answers are as follows: 1. (C) 2. (D) 3. (C) 4. (D) 5. (D) 6. (False) 7. (False) 8. (False) 9. (True) 10. (True), and if you did answer True to "10. I am really glad I am not related to Cynthia or any of those Bulak people" I can understand your frustration, but I will admit to being just a wee bit hurt.
This concludes our reading of "A Comedy of Errors: My Family in the Census." Be sure to check back for next week's A.P. (Advanced Placement) challenge: "Much Ado About Nothing, Or Finding Szerejkos, Radziewiczs, Kowalewskis, and Choronzaks in the U.S. Census."
A Smith, a Smith, my kingdom for a Smith!
Class dismissed.
A Comedy of Errors: My Family in the Census (Part 1 of 3)
A Comedy of Errors: My Family in the Census (Part 2 of 3)
Other Posts You Might Like:
A Slice of Life: Confessions of a Lunchbox Trader...
And The Award Goes To...
(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: The Play Elizabeth
Meditation: Family History
And the Award Goes To...
(Original Image and Text, Copyright (c) 2011 Cynthia Shenette) This is my first time as an iGene Awards presenter, and boy am I excited! As you can see I pulled out one of my best gowns for this red carpet occasion. To heck with Hollywood designer duds and loaned diamond jewelry. I haven't worn this dress since a 1997 community theatre production of Meet Me In St. Louis, so I'm thrilled to have the opportunity to give it another airing. Let's move past the idle self-indulgent awards ceremony banter, the awkward stumbling over the teleprompter, and those unexpected David Niven/Marlon Brando moments, and get on with the show.Without further ado, I'd like to present the iGene award for Best Documentary. The award goes to...COG 97: Researching "The Coldbrook Tragedy" (Part 1 of 4) for my series on the Naramore family murders. This local story has fascinated me for several years, and apparently it has fascinated my blog readers as well, providing the second largest number of hits of all time on my blog.
The award for Best Picture goes to...why it's a tie! This has never happened before! The iGene is to be shared between (Almost) Wordless Wednesday: WWI Red Cross Volunteers AND Wordless Wednesday: Happy Mother's Day! My photo of WWI Red Cross volunteers from St. Mary's Polish parish in Worcester, MA was listed in a Red Cross Chat, What We're Reading post and interestingly has more hits, by a wide margin, than any other post on my blog. My Mother's Day post features my all time favorite photo of my mom, a real glamour shot. Ava Gardner has nothing on mom in this beautiful photo taken in the 1940s. Please check it out.
The award for Best Comedy goes to...What the Dickens, Or How To Blow Up A Duck! A shoo-in winner for sure! Forget all of those heartwarming holiday tales of food, family, and tradition from the Advent Calendar of Christmas Memories. I invite you to return to Christmas Past, circa 1975, as my mother and I attempt to recreate a Dickensian holiday feast but blow up stuff instead. It's a tale you soon won't forget (no matter how hard you try).
The award for Best Screenplay goes to...The Stories My Grandmother Told Me! I can see the cast already. Back in the 1980s people use to confuse me with actress Emma Samms all the time. No really. Well, Emma Samms with a bad perm. Emma is the obvious choice to play my 2011 self. In the flashback sequence to my younger self, I would choose Selena Gomez, because I think she's just adorable. Betty White would play my grandmother. Why Betty White? Because she's everywhere these days. I can already hear her character saying to my character, "Do you really like your hair like that?" Rounding out the cast: Colin Firth and Natasha Kinski as the Count and Countess Glinka, and Johnny Depp and Mia Wasikowska as my great-grandparents Antoni and Ewa. I know, I know. Johnny Depp is a little old to play my great-grandfather opposite Mia, but it's my movie. Believe me, any movie I cast is going to have Colin Firth and Johnny Depp. 'Nuf said.
The award for Best Biography goes to...Meditation: The Strength of Ordinary Women, one of my all time favorite posts! I will admit to being especially proud of this two time winner. This particular post was also selected by iGene host Jasia as the featured post for the 94th Edition of the Carnival of Genealogy. Well, all I can say is you like me. You really like me!
Now a brief thank you. I'd like to say thank you to iGene host Jasia at Creative Gene and the entire staff at the Carnival of Genealogy for encouraging my work, the Academy (of Genealogists and Family Historians), my friends at the FFC or the Frustrated Footnote Committee (I promise to try try harder. Thanks for the free copy of EE! This one's for you!), my family (especially my long-suffering husband for putting up with my rather odd sense of humor, often at his expense and my son for being darn cute. Kisses from Mommy, and don't stay up too late, son.), all the ancestor's I've found (especially the 583 I've already input into my Family Tree Maker software.), all the ancestors I haven't found (We can do it the hard way, or we can do it the easy way. I WILL find you. Think about that.) and to all of the little people, diligently scanning and indexing records everywhere, I thank you.
Well, this concludes the 2011 edition of the iGene Awards at Heritage Zen. Thank you all. Goodnight.
THE FINE PRINT: In an effort of full disclosure I feel it is my duty to disclose the sad truth that I will never fit into this dress again. Never. I also apologize to my singing partner from Meet Me In St. Louis. I rather unceremoniously cropped his picture out of this photo, a classic case of someone's best work ending up on the cutting room floor. Sorry, but that's showbiz...
Other Posts You Might Like or It Was An Honor Just To Be Nominated:
Where They Lived: Every Address Tells a Story
Reflecting on My American Experience This Thanksgiving
A Slice of Life: Confessions of a Lunch Box Trader
A Matter of Habit: Solving a Mystery
Advent Calendar, Gifts: You Bought Me What?
(Original Image and Text, Copyright (c) 2010 Cynthia Shenette) A while back my son told me I needed a Snuggie. I am always cold, so when my son saw Snuggies advertised on television he decided that was exactly what I needed. What we all needed. Well, except for the dog. I had to draw the line somewhere, and frankly I didn't think they had one in her size. I bought a purple one for myself, a camouflage one for my husband, and a SpongeBob one for the son. Is it just me or do you not see your "average Joe" hanging out in a duck blind or one of those little ice fishing huts, kicking back a few brews with his buddies in a camo Snuggie?Against my better judgement, or some might say total lack there of, I have fallen victim to HOLIDAY MARKETING. HOLIDAY MARKETING is why rational people, myself included, buy stuff at Christmas time that they would never consider purchasing at any other time of the year. You know what I'm talking about--Snuggies, soap on a rope, fruitcake, the Pocket Fisherman, fruitcake. You get the idea. And not only do we buy these things for ourselves, but then we give them to other people.
I once remember hearing someone refer to the 1970s as "the decade that taste forgot." As someone who spent her teen years in the 1970s, I have to agree. There were some pretty ridiculous Christmas gifts back then. The 70s brought us the mood ring (got that), the pet rock (got that), the bead curtain (yup, got that), and the lava lamp (didn't get that, but really, really wanted one). Do you remember the Buttoneer? It was a little gizmo that popped buttons onto clothing without a needle and thread. Mom, who was a wonderful seamstress and a sewing perfectionist, wanted and got one for Christmas one year. The Buttoneer was going to make her life easier. No more fussing over buttons. Let's just say the product didn't live up to her expectations. It was about a refined as putting buttons on your disco dress with a staple gun. We gave, and got, our share of fruitcake too.And what is with all of the clothes and stuff for pets? Christmas hats and antlers for the dog? Even rather staid, conservative L.L. Bean gets into the act. Notice how every year they feature all of those pet products at Christmas time in their catalog? Of course I too have been a victim of L.L. Bean's HOLIDAY MARKETING. Three years ago we got our dog from a rescue society in Arkansas that specializes in placing animals in the New England area. I was concerned that our new dog, a southern girl, would be cold in the winter after being use to the warmer climate in Arkansas. To ward off the chill of our harsh New England winters I bought her a doggie coat for Christmas from Bean's. It's a cute little coat made out of the same sturdy canvas as their barn coats for people. My husband thought I was being ridiculous. I think he was annoyed because the dog got the same coat that he did.
But as far as I'm concerned, that Twelve Days of Christmas thing is the biggest HOLIDAY MARKETING ploy ever. Even bigger than fruitcake. Every year at Christmas someone on a TV news or chat show adds up the cost of all that stuff and figures out would it would cost in today's dollars. Other than the five golden rings, even if you could afford to buy all of that stuff, what's the point? For one thing, who in their right mind would even want all of those birds? Seven swans, six geese, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and don't forget the partridge who started all the trouble. Twenty three birds. After those six geese get done a-laying, what do you get? Either way too many eggs, or worse yet, more birds. Then you've got the drummer's drumming and the piper's piping, and the ladies dancing. No one is working here except for the eight maids a milking, and those lords leaping all over the place are probably distracting the maids from their milking duties anyway. And what the heck are you going to feed all of those people? Dairy products?On Christmas morn, after all our gifts are open, my family and I will put on our Snuggies and join the "cult of the Snuggie people." As for antlers for the dog, that's just silly. Now, does anyone know where I can get a good deal on a Chia Pet?
Other Posts You Might Like:
Advent Calendar, Food: What the Dickens, Or How to Blow Up a Duck
(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: Me and My Doll
The Stories My Grandmother Told Me
Advent Calendar: Christmas Cards from Poland and Germany
Thanksgiving Before We Got the GPS...
(Original Image and Text, Copyright (c) 2010 Cynthia Shenette)
"Um, Honey...THIS isn't grandmother's house. I said over the river and through the woods. THROUGH the woods."
How DID our ancestors manage?
For a more thoughtful post on Thanksgiving read my post, Reflecting on My American Experience This Thanksgiving.
Now go have that second piece of pumpkin pie. You know you want to...
Happy Thanksgiving from Cynthia at Heritage Zen!
Other Posts You Might Like:
Meditation: The Strength of Ordinary Women
(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: WWI Red Cross Volunteers
COG 97: Researching the "Coldbrook Tragedy" (Part 1 of 4)
Tombstone Tuesday: Wladyslaw Kowalewski, The Mystery Continues
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