It’s Beginning to look a lot like Chaos

originally published on Dec 15, 2013 in The Leaf Chronicle

I was hoping to regale you with decorating tips and pictures of my decorated home, but alas—‘twas not to be. As author John Steinbeck penned, “The best laid schemes of mice and men . . .”

Oops! Wrong. It wasn’t Mr. Steinbeck, although I learned the quote in his novel, “Of Mice and Men,” he was actually quoting a poem written by Robert Burns. Anyhoo, the point is: plans often change or are changed for you.

My plans for the weekend changed drastically when the hard drive on my computer at the shop crashed Friday night at the close of business. No problem—it just contains all of the information vital to the operation of my shop for the past 9 years. I don’t use it much . . . just for every transactions, inventory question, social media to posts and email conversations. Naturally, after three hours on the phone with tech support and the promise of the delivery of a “recovery disc” (as if that means ANYTHING to me) within 3 – 5 business days, I took this whole event in stride.

So, after my mini-meltdown, I called my sister and asked her WWAD (What Would Angela Do?). Angela is one of our really, really smart friends who knows her way around a computer. Kendall (my sister) is usually my go to girl, but when she doesn’t know what to do—we go to Angela. When Angela doesn’t know what to do—we cry. Angela suggested calling tech support—when that didn’t work—she said, “Take it to Doghouse Computers.”

So, first thing Saturday morning, I did. They fixed it and got it back to me the same day! So, please, let that be a lesson for all of us. I am rabid about shopping local, but thought that, at 6 p.m. on a Friday night, my only option was online help. Not only did the online tech support fail me (they, in fact, promised they would have me up and running that night), but now I am fighting to get my money back. Taylor, at Doghouse, talked to me—in person—and understood my desperate situation and did everything he could to fix my computer as quickly as possible. Shop local, people—it makes a difference.

I told you all of that, so I could tell you this . . .

With my weekend compressed by my computer emergency, my plans for a big day of decorating this past Sunday turned into a big day of cleaning out the front room, which we refer to as “the parlor,” but that sounds so hoity-toity when I see it written. I had hoped to tackle this project Friday night so we could make room to relocate a table from the living room, to make room for the big tree. The parlor (said in my head with a droll British accent) was a little cluttered, as it has been the catch-all space for: inventory I’m holding onto; a college student’s “must have” bike; empty boxes from the recent bathroom re-do; a variety of ready-to-hang-but-no-wall-space-available art; and, a purgatory (of sorts) for laptops awaiting their final resting place.

The only decorating I managed was placing three trees in their designated positions—only two of which have lights on them; because that is the way I brought them home from my shop! The big tree in the living room gets a minimum of 1,000 new lights each year. I leave that tree on 24 hours per day and do not bother storing light strings that have had a minimum of 700 hours of use. When I used to reuse lights, I’ve had them go out, a string at a time, throughout the month of December—not doing that again.

My youngest daughter helped by bringing down some of the boxes while I was at the shop. She even arranged my Santa and nutcracker collections. That was a huge help due to all of the unwrapping involved in those chores.

As I plan my attack for the rest of the décor, I have found myself wondering what, if anything, I can “skip” this year. I probably won’t decorate the cabinet tops with all of the fresh greenery I’ve used in the past. I may also skip the vintage tinsel tree in the dining room . . . especially since I’ve added a new tree at the base of the stairs. Nah—who do I think I’m kidding? The tinsel tree will probably go up tonight, while I’m helping my decorating elf with her homework. It’s only about 4 feet tall—the tree, not the decorating elf; I adorn it with vintage ornaments in shades of aqua and pink—the elf, not the tree . . . (rimshot, please).

I have one more chance to share some decorating ideas with you next week. You know better than to hold your breath though.

The Final Countdown!

originally published in The Leaf Chronicle on Dec 8, 2013

My mind is a total blank. It’s a few weeks before Christmas and I can’t think of a thing to share with you. That’s a lie. I can think of things I want to share, but my mother raised me better than that, so I probably shouldn’t.

My mind is a jumble of all the things I need to accomplish in order to close my shop in less than two weeks. (I’m trying to control myself as a mild panic sets in and I double check the calendar—yup, less than two weeks. YIKES!) All while everyone around me seems to be decorating for Christmas.

While I was working on my computer the other night, I looked around the house, wondering when I will find the time to decorate our house. I may be able to start today (not the day I am writing, but the day you are reading); then again, I may just sit in my chair and stare at the television. At the moment, I’m leaning towards “just sitting.”

Perhaps I can do it in baby steps, just tackling one room at a time. The only problem with this plan is that it is highly probable that I wasn’t quite that organized in my packing last year. Wouldn’t it be great to pull out a box and it only contains the decorations for the living room? The next box would have only the assembly items for the stairwell décor. However, it is much more likely I’ll pull out the box with the greenery for the stairwell and have to stop after I put the lights on to find the ribbon, which is likely in the bottom of another storage bin—under the nutcrackers or the Santa collection.

I guess I will have to resign myself that it will be a long, drawn out process with stuff strewn all over the house. After all, why should this year be any different? I think, because my shop is such a mess as I try to organize and pack 9 years of accumulation, I am reluctant to turn the house upside down, as well.

Several friends and family have told me I shouldn’t bother decorating the house or perhaps I shouldn’t do as much as I usually do. I can’t help but wonder if they really mean that. I mean, they know me well enough to be referred to as “friends and family,” so you’d think they’d know I can’t not do it all.

This year may be a bit of a challenge, but it’ll happen and I’ll be glad it did.

By the way, as I finished typing this, my neighbor, Ryan, just texted me that he’s done decorating his entire house—he puts me shame with the amount of stuff he does! He may just lose a few bulbs out of his light strings tonight . . .

Creating a New (Accidental) Tradition

originally published in The Leaf Chronicle on Dec 1, 2013.

As I am writing this, the dressing is waiting in the crock pots, the pies are cooling on the sideboard and the cranberry sauce is at the ready. Mom is rending the meat of the baked sweet potatoes from their skins and preparing to top them with dried cranberries and almonds. All is (mostly) right in my world. I am, however, a day behind in composing my column and not even sure they will be able to insert it in the Living section, but feel compelled to sit down to write.

I love preparing meals for the holidays—almost more than eating them. I enjoy planning menus and table settings; I love cooking. Yup—pretty much the entire process ranks rather high on my list of things I like to do. The funny thing about Thanksgiving preparations though, is that—although a month separates them—they go hand-in-hand with Christmas planning.

As I prepare my menu for Thanksgiving, I am conscious of the fact that I will be preparing similar offerings for the Christmas meal(s). With a collection of more than fifty cookbooks, one might think there is no way duplicates should even be offered, but it’s difficult to not fall back on the tried and true. I like to experiment with new recipes, especially when we are entertaining, but have not venture too far from my standard menus for the past few years.

One new development I noticed yesterday was when I was rifling through my cookbooks to find a recipe I typically use; Mom opened the kitchen cabinet to look at the notes from last year’s menu. I know they are there, but it just occurred to me how helpful that is. (Evidence that my inability to throw things away is, in fact, borderline brilliance—it’s not the cure for cancer, but will aid my sanity.)

If you open the cabinet door where I keep my spices, you will find the notes and menu plans for the week of Christmas 2012, just under the plans for Thanksgiving 2013. I think most of us write out our menus for special events like this. Ours has notes about who will be preparing which dishes and which Southern Living Annual Recipes book contains the Bourbon and Chocolate Pecan Pie (it’s 1998, by the way).

Notes like these have already proven useful this year, but I think there are added benefits.

For instance, when I say things such as, “You know, I would like to try cooking a beef tenderloin for Christmas,” and my mother looks at me like I’ve got lobsters coming out of my ears, she will be able to back-up her “are you nuts” look with my own hand written menu from 2011 as evidence. (For your amusement, I will confess that this memory lapse actually happened last year, all expect for the “evidence;” we don’t have that menu taped to the cabinet. The fact remains, however that I completely forgot having prepared a beef tenderloin—a cut of meat which is to dang expensive to forget!)

So, through happenstance, I’ve decided this will be a new tradition for the King Kompound. I will now purposely keep these notebook pages taped to the insides of cabinet for two years. After which they will be retired to a page protector in my black three-ring recipe binder, for posterity and reference. My kids will likely never need/want to reference them, but I like to think they might. I know I’d love to have something like that from my mother, but at least I’m making these memories with her.

I hope you enjoy (and remember) your menu planning this holiday season.