Let It Snow!

Sadly, the snow that hit Baltimore last week melted away in a torrent of rain yesterday.  Even sadly-er, I didn't have a chance to complain about shoveling OR the Maryland Transit Authority OR the record setting inch count because A) my midwestern friends got hit again with an even more noteworthy storm, making it sort of pathetic to complain about a mere 21 inches, and B) the stupid transit authority actually did a decent job, making it slightly harder to complain about them despite my declaration that they are my arch nemesis.  So what's a girl to do but enjoy the snow?

I was lucky enough to be home in Pennsylvania for my sister's graduation last week while Maryland was in a state of emergency.  So we pulled out all the old sleds we used as kids, and hit the ole' sledding hill.  In the dark.  With beer.

Yes, we're a tad larger than we used to be, but we had a blast!

All I Want For Christmas

All I want for Christmas is two toilet seats,
Two toilet seats, see two toilet seats.
Gee, if I could only have two toilet seats,
Then I could poop in peace on Christmas.

It seems so odd that one would choose
Sitting on a seat that's blue and "pinkle."
Gosh, oh gee, how happy I'd be
If I could only tinkle.

All I want for Christmas is two toilet seats,
Two toilet seats, see two toilet seats
Gee, if I could only have two toilet seats,
Then I could poop in peace on Christmas.

Life is Like a Box of Chocolates

I'm so sorry constant readers.  I know, I know.  I have been out there in the wide world, buying Christmas presents and wood stain, packing up boxes and boxes and boxes (and a few bags) of my CRAP, and pulling up carpet, and thinking about blogging.  But I have not actually been blogging, and I apologize.  I WOULD go out and buy each and every one of you a nice bouquet of flowers or box of chocolates, but I am too nice.  I know you would then have to go out and buy me a thank you card, and you would have it on your list of things to do for weeks, and then you would think it was too late to send a thank you card, and you would start to think maybe you ought to send a gift in reply, but then THAT would be on your list of things to do for weeks, and THEN you would realize that I had sent you a nice bouquet of flowers and you hadn't even had the decency to say thank you and you should probably just start avoiding me altogether and it would ruin our friendship (blogship?) and you would feel just terrible.  So do not worry, I am gracious enough to send you nothing.  I am such a good friend.

OK, so.

What have I been doing?  Well, we've been to the house a bunch.  Not as often as I would like, but about as often as I can make it without losing significant sanity, so it is enough.  I had one very frustrating day trying to buy SOMETHING decorative for the house.  I have biological evidence that I am a girl.  However, it seems I am missing some key girl-genes, and for the life of me, I cannot figure out what color paint/curtains/area rugs/shower curtains might be appropriate.  I suppose, looking back on my seven hour shopping extravaganza, wherein I purchased two shower curtains and some cabinet liners, I was too scattered in my objectives.  I went to store after store, attempting to find a shower curtain that would compliment my somewhat hideous baby blue tile, and my undeniably hideous pastel purple tile.  But inevitably, I would be sidetracked by the curtain section and the area rug section.  Also, I HATED EVERYTHING.

Now, I continue to go into stores with different objectives, such as finding a gift for my 89-year old grandmother.  (Seriously, she has had 90 Christmases.  How many blankets and knickknacks can one person use?)  In every store, I find shower curtains that would have been WAY better than the ones I bought.  I still hate all the curtains, and most of the area rugs.  And I have not found the perfect gift for my grandmother.

*************

As for the actual work, it is going fairly smoothly, but waaaaay slooooower than I thought.  I successfully pulled carpet in the two bedrooms and the dining room.  I have been convinced that we can at least save the ugly stuff for potential reuse in the unfinished basement.  Actually reusing it?  It is a battle for a different day. When it came time to drag the rolls down the stair, it became apparent that I am, truly, a girl.  I despise the movies where the girl stands around helplessly while her man fights to the near death to save her, and I have never been a proponent of the men doing the heavy lifting while the women bake the bread.  But goddammit, carpet is heavy and hard to grip with itty bitty girly hands.  I am so ashamed.

I hope I have bored you long enough, but not too much.  I hope you want to read more and have not abandoned my little ole' blog.  I think of it all the time, and I PROMISE to update more regularly.  I may tell you about our lesson in "why the band aids should have been packed first" and maybe even our first plumbing incident.  And, if you don't hear from me - expect some chocolates. 

Dude! Seriously?

Dude!  Seriously?  It costs THAT much??!

I thought I had an edge over the average Joe, since the construction industry indirectly pays my rent (and occasionally lays me off...)  But it turns out, when I am asked to do pricing for others I am generally not overly concerned with the bottom line.  After all, I didn't choose the fancy pavers in the plaza or the partitions in the restrooms, I just count how many of them there are and add the number to a spreadsheet.  Also, when you are talking bugdets of $2.8 million, a $2500 counter top really ain't such a big deal.

But, $2500 is a big deal to me and my significantly reduced bank account.  Think it can't possibly cost that much? Well, think again.  All I wanted was a nice, granite counter.  Is that so much to ask?  I found out it is freaking $64 a square foot, not including the cost for backsplash or edging.  Poo.

No granite for me.

Guess what else costs more than I thought?

1.  Sheds.
2.  Paint.
3.  Tile flooring.
4.  Overlay for concrete floors.
5.  Fireplaces.
6.  Ladders.
7.  Gardening tools.
8.  Books about gardening.
9.  Trash pick up service.
10.  Composting.
11.  Cable television*

*Actually, on that last one, it is hard to say.  You see, the cable company advertises this "triple play" deal which gives a great price for the first six months.  However, no one seems to be able to quantify the costs after that.  We don't even really want cable tv, but it is actually more expensive to get just a phone line and internet service.  WTF?

Phish with Earplugs

It is difficult to put to words how very very sad I was to have missed the Phish Summer Tour so utterly completely.  This band used to play a much larger role in my life - back when I had time to listen to music nearly all day, every day, Phish was a staple album.  It was not unusual for all five discs in the CD changer to be Phish albums.  It was also not unusual to let the CD player run on random play for hours and hours before we realized we'd heard each song about six times that day.

Though I was a poor college student, I managed to make it to see Phish whenever they came to the general vicinity (as long as you consider the "general vicinity" within a six hour driving radius...)  From my freshman year on, I had not missed a Philly show, nor very many of the Pittsburgh shows.  For each of these, I committed at least four hours of driving time to and from the show, not to mention a lot of missed showers and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for meals (which are really delicious when you are very very hungry, by the way.)

This summer, the first summer I have been in Baltimore during a Phish tour, they played in Columbia Maryland, just 45 minutes from my residence.  No hours in traffic, no sleeping in a friend's basement on a floor required.  And I missed it.  We didn't get tickets in the pre-sale, we missed out on tickets in the actual sale, and despite committing four hours to drinking pitchers of less than stellar beer in order to win a drawing, we did not win tickets.  I was very very sad.

So, when the Fall Tour was announced, I was there.  I missed out on pre-sale tickets again and was prepared to miss yet another tour.  We attempted Madison Square Garden tickets, and once again, they sold out before we were able to score a pair of seats.  So, despite the inconvenience of weeknight shows in Philly, we widened our search.  Lo and behold we got seats!!...Section 109 for night #1 and Section 209 for night #2!!

Again, I can't explain the joy with which I awaited the beginning notes of Set #1.  Normally, I attempt to guess what songs will be played, or rather, what songs I want to hear.  But for once, I didn't care at all.  I was just so happy to be there, despite having to leave early from work and battle construction traffic and rush hour traffic and traffic for traffic's sake.

The set began with "Chalkdust Torture", a song that demands to know, "Can't it wait till I'm old, Can't I live while I'm young?"  and I laughed to myself as the crowd cheered during the refrain.  "Am I still young?" I thought.  The members of Phish sang this song, as they have for over 20 years, and I realized it has taken on new meaning for me.  I no longer rejoice in youth, but rather, rejoice in the present.  I no longer wonder, what comes next?  But think to myself, hey this here is pretty cool.  I listened.  I enjoyed.  I raced to the car through the parking lot in order to grab about four hours of sleep before work in the morning.

Like the many Phish fans who used to arrive in two door hatchbacks with questionable axles and cheap tires, I got into my newish reliable four door and got into line with mini vans and SUV's, ready to do it again the next day.  I'm a little older, a little wiser, but still crazy enough to drive a few hours for a show.

Channeling My Inner Gramom

Today I have prepared for that seemingly forgotten holiday - Thanksgiving.  You remember Thanksgiving decorations, do you not?  With the Native Americans and the Pilgrims?  The funny hats, and buckled shoes? The headdresses with feathers?  I went to a few stores today, the weekend before Thanksgiving, and saw nary a hand print with a beak and gobbler on it, not a cornucopia in site.  But Thanksgiving is not forgotten by those of us who love food.  Through snowflakes and Christmas trees, I wandered the shelves, looking for the ingredients to make potato filling.

Potato filling is a wonderful and uniquely Pennsylvania Dutch concoction which I took for granted as a child.  You see, I was not aware that it is not an everyday thing for most of the world.  Most restaurants and school lunches in my hometown include potato filling - a delicious blend of potatoes and bread stuffing - on the menu.  But here in Maryland, and even in my Penn State dining hall, no one has heard of it.

Even as a kid, I knew the best potato filling was made by one person - my Gramom.  Though she cooked a lot when I was small, her batches of potato filling (and pretty much everything else) were fewer and farther between as I grew older.  Soon, she made the coveted dish only once a year, after repeated badgering - on Thanksgiving.

I attempted to make it myself, of course.  I called her a few years ago for the recipe.  I went to her house and searched through decades of cookbooks and hand-written recipes on scraps of worn, stained paper.  Unfortunately, potato filling was one of the things she just did.  She threw the basic ingredients together in a pot, and ended with a culinary masterpiece.  The exact quantities of these ingredients were a mystery.  My own potato filling, enjoyed by college friends at our annual "friends Thanksgiving" received compliments.  But it wasn't the same.  It wasn't even in Gramom's league.

Now, Gramom is gone.  It is amazing how I still miss her daily.  I think it is a shame that such a wonderful recipe should die with her.  And so, I pulled out all the old cookbooks I inherited from her, as well as my sister's verbal account of her method - which includes the basic ingredients but not the quantities - and I attempted to reconstruct the masterpiece.

I had thought is would be a lost cause until I took out the last book in the stack - a PA Dutch Grange Cookbook with "Mabel Graeff" written on the front cover.  This, I believe, was inherited by my own Gramom, perhaps when she was just a few years younger than me.  No index, just a list of general recipe types - "Salads" (a very small section, as the PA Dutch are not known for their low-cal concoctions.  Though I didn't flip to the section, I can guarantee all recipes involve potatoes or macaroni, with limited greens as a garnish.) "Breads", "Meats", "Casseroles", "Recipes for a Crowd", and "Desserts" (of course, this section is nearly half the book.)  Where would potato filling fit in?  I decided on the crowd recipes and flipped hopefully to the section to find it right there - "Groff's Potato Filling".  First ingredient, 20 lb of potatoes...umm...I think a recipe for 70 may slightly exceed my needs, despite my family's "everything to excess" motto.  Sadly, I returned to the choices.  I tried casseroles, but did not find it.

And then, in Gramom's own hand writing, a list of her favorites.  First on the list: PA Dutch Potato Filling, page 527.  Eagerly, I went to the section of the book in the worst condition - where the pages, though still mostly in order, had come loose from the plastic binding.  Naturally, page 527 was the only page missing.  I flipped a bit more, hoping to find it, and did not.  As I began to place the fragile book back into its plastic bag, a page caught my attention. And there it was, page 527.  Now, this, I knew was not her recipe.  But I think it is the one that started it all.  When she was in her late teens or 20's this was the recipe she used.  She tweaked and refined and eventually stopped bothering with the recipe all together.  Combined with sis's account, I confidently went to the store and bought ingredients.  I have just spent over an hour preparing things, trying to replicate that recipe I know so well, yet do not know at all.

Only time will tell now.  On Thursday, I will pop my filling in beside the sweet potatoes and crecent rolls for the final test.  Will it be perfect?  I think not.  But it will be close, I know it.

Because somehow, I think, Gramom helped.

My Christmas List Is Getting Bigger

I promise, I am not freaking out.  Really.  Ok, I'm freaking out.  We have been looking for a house since APRIL.  Yes thats...six?  Yes, SIX months ago!  The process has been alternately fun and exasperating.  Like, every house we saw had some thing wrong, that we couldn't live with and/or without.  Like the one with the itty bitty yard which was practically on top of the neighbor's yard, or the one with the four acres of land that realistically would take way too much work and/or a herd of goats to maintain.  There was the one with the awesome two car garage that was larger than the house what came with it.  There was the one with the great layout and the six-lane Interstate in the back yard.  We saw houses that smelled like raw sewage, houses with massive leaks in the bathroom, houses with sagging roofs and walls, and one that was advertised as a "partially finished, livable home." 

We ended up putting an offer in on one that was overpriced, and it went into foreclosure while our contract was being considered.  We attempted to see "short sales" and found that they were tied up for the third time in contractual knots, with no real attempts by anyone to untie them.  We found a great house with a nice yard, and returned for a second look to find that pretty much all the electrical work would need replacing.  We debated on the pros and cons of pool ownership, only to have the house bought from under our noses by decidedly more decisive people.

And then, last week, we found something.  The price was right, the electrical system worked, the carpet could be pulled to reveal gorgeous hardwood.  (Who? Would install aqua blue and pink carpet?  Oh, right, the same person who would tile their bathrooms in baby blue or purple pastel with butterfly accents.)

So....we're buying a house!!  And making a bazillion plans for improvements.  I know this cannot possibly be done all at once, but it is completely overwhelming me.  I could not sleep this morning.  Again.  Not only do we not have the raw materials to build with - the wood studs for the unfinished basement, the tile for the kitchen floor, the counter tops, the paint - we do not have the tools necessary for...anything.  Like, I own a hammer, and a screwdriver, and a few wrench thingies.  But paint brushes? Nail guns? Crowbars, shovels, hoes, roto-tillers, ladders, trowels, lawn mowers?  I own none of these things!!  I am freaking out.  Ahh!  I don't even own a shed to store such items!

OK, breathe.  It will be OK.  This morning's realization was the ladder.  We need to clean the gutters and we have no ladder.  I am trying to prioritize, and I can't figure out where this falls in the list.  "And you want a deep freezer," says my crazy brain.  Umm...I was working on the gutter thing!  "And some fruit trees along the back would be nice..."  Argh!  I don't even know where the rear property line is!  How much sunlight gets out there!  What kind of slope the land is!  When you are supposed to plant trees!  What color the kichen should be painted!

Breathe.  Just breathe.

Can someone please buy me a Home Depot for Christmas?  I would really appreciate it.  Oh, or even better?  That Travis guy can come plant me some dang apple trees.  And paint my kitchen.  I am thinking a soft green.  Anything but aqua.