Nov 1, 2007 | This Life
Every Halloween, Astoria’s downtown merchants sponsor trick-or-treating from 3 to 5. Kids in their costumes mill up and down the streets at what has to be the easiest pickings available. We don’t have a mall, so downtown suffices. Because it’s early, they don’t even suffer much in the cold. Their parents do, suffer that is, for entirely different reasons.
Downtown is a gentle sort of mayhem on Halloween. Most vendors either buy the assorted chocolate bag or the assorted sugar bag from costco. A few cheap out and push starlight mints or religious tracks at the kids. Fewer still buy the good stuff: handing out full sized candy bars and fancy candy. A local swanky kid’s store gave out individually wrapped truffles this year. Boy Wonder scored an orange cream one and when we sorted his candy last night, all three of us spotted it at once and dove for the chocolate shouting, “Truffle!!.” Our mamas didn’t raise any fools.
But there is one place that out does the rest. A sainted woman stands outside Danish Made Bakery and hands out fresh donut-holes to all the kids. Glazed balls of bliss. Oh. My.
Not that I got to eat one. Which is why, every Halloween, I say to myself, “Self, you must go into Danish Made and buy some donuts for later in the evening.” Of course, that never happens. There is the crush of childish humanity in the first place. Kids everywhere. We are only a town of 10 thousand, and I’m pretty sure 8 thousand of those are kids. And then there is my own child, who is anxious to keep moving and eager to get this part of the day done. He knows, and I know, that our final destination at 5 pm is to meet his father at our favorite coffee house for hot chocolates. Yes, more sugar. And so, I consider all this as I walk past Danish Made every Halloween and I say to myself, “Self, how much sugar do you really need?”
Of course, the night winds down eventually. Our festivities come to a close and eventually I find myself hanging out with IZ reflecting on our day. Every Halloween seems to top the last one. This year, the boy came down the stairs several times after bedtime to say thank you for all the joy of the day. I can’t blame him—what’s not to love about dress up and candy and pizza and the ability to share it all with real friends? A lovely day even without a donut.
Today is All Saints Day. A holiday that goes without much notice. And not that we need any more sugar in this house, but it has traditionally become a day for Danish Made donuts. Having spent the night wishing we’d been wiser, IZ and I usually break down sometime on 1 November and head out for the bakery. This year, it was my turn. As I came in the door from running errands, IZ met me in the hall and said, “Please tell me you got donuts.” I grinned and handed over the bag.
It’s probably not the most traditional way to celebrate this day, where we remember those who went before us , those who did remarkable things. People who made a difference and changed their worlds. But we like to think of it as a holy kind of expression. Coffee and donuts; a different sort of Eucharist.
Next year, when the smell of sweet sugar meets me on the street, I’m going to say to myself, “Self, All Saints Day means donuts from Danish Made. Today is only Halloween.”
Nov 1, 2007 | This Life
Oct 31, 2007 | This Life
Oct 30, 2007 | You Can't Make This Stuff Up
A little bit of weirdness**: when eating a handful of colorful candy, I adhere to Darwin’s theory of natural selection. I eat the color with the weakest number represented first, leaving the stronger numbers for last. Survival of the fittest.
This is unfortunate when green is the last color left standing.
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Oct 29, 2007 | This Life
We met Death in the woods yesterday.
He said to say, “Hello.”
Oct 28, 2007 | Sunday Sermon
Take a break.
Even God rested.
Oct 27, 2007 | This Life
Last night was the VERY late 40th celebration for the wonderful Ms. Paula!! (her birthday being 3 weeks ago. Ack!) These sweeties were made by ever talented Kathleen… we had munchies and champagne, but I was too busy consuming those to take photos. Heh. What’s new, eh? You’ll just have to take my word for it (and the 15 lbs I gained!) on how yummy it all was.
I spent most of yesterday cleaning this pit of a house. Good thing we throw parties at night where I can dim the lights and pray nobody runs their hands along the baseboards! Darn, we are just too dusty in these parts. I’m looking for a quaint, but hermetically sealed place to live, anyone got any suggestions?
I would sit here on this couch, admiring all my hard work except there is so much to do! The sun is out and I must drag my sorry self outside for a walk. Maybe I can make a start at working off last night’s sins. And then there are pumpkins to carve, a last minute birthday present to whip up, and probably costume alterations to do. I’m noticing that my dining room table looks a little vacant without the potted miniature roses and I’m wondering how to remedy that. And in the distant, I can hear the faint strains of my laundry calling for a revolution on the second floor:
Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Beyond the barricade
Is there a world you long to see?
And me? I’m still sitting here, luxuriating in that clean house feeling knowing full well the second floor is busy stroming a barricade! Denial was meant for Saturday morning.
Oct 26, 2007 | This Life
When the crypt goes creak,
And the tombstones quake.
Spooks come out for a swinging wake.
Happy haunts materialize,
And begin to vocalize.
Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize.
Now don’t close your eyes,
And don’t try to hide.
Or a silly spook may sit by your side.
Shrouded in a daft disguise,
They pretend to terrorize.
Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize.
As the moon climbs high o’er the dead oak tree,
Spooks arrive for the midnight spree.
Creepy creeps with eerie eyes,
Start to shriek and harmonize.
Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize.
When you hear the knell of a requiem bell,
Weird glows gleam where spirits dwell.
Restless bones etherialize,
Rise as spooks of every size.
If you would like to join our jamboree,
There’s a simple rule that’s compulsory.
Mortals pay a token fee.
Rest in peace, the haunting’s free.
So hurry back, we would like your company.
Oct 26, 2007 | You Can't Make This Stuff Up
IZ and I have been arguing about this image all night. He says she’s spinning counter-clockwise. I say she’s spinning clockwise. Clearly, I’m right.
Which way is she spinning for you? (You need to click on the image to see it spin. I had it full size before, but it’s making me nauseated to have it that large. Yes, yes I do check my blog that often! What’s your point? Just click the darn thing, already.)
Now, go see what that says about you!
Oct 25, 2007 | From the Kitchen
Last week, Smitten Kitchen posted a recipe for Pumpkin Bread Pudding. Oh my. Bread and pumpkin, two of my favorite things! However, the recipe called for a day old baguette, and around these parts there are two things that never make it to day old: champagne and baguette. Ahem. No, good bread and any champagne gets scarfed down quickly, usually followed by someone proffering up an empty cup or bowl with baleful eyes, “Please sir, can I have some more?!” Day old baguette… who are we kidding?
What we do have that’s stale is a loaf of flax-seed, wheat-free bread that we all thought sounded like a responsible choice when we were standing in the market surveying our options. It was a good plan at the time. We didn’t know our future selves would turn up our noses and then scrounge around for something different leaving the loaf to dry out. So, it sat. This loaf of flaxy, seedy, lacking in taste wheat, bread—in our refrigerator for how long, I don’t rightly know. Weeks? Probably. Certainly that counts as day old right? It’s day old plus. That makes it better.
I decided to substitute the bread. And we all loved it so much that we scarfed it down like it was warm crusty baguette… and of course, somebody just had to go and ask, “Please, Mom, can I have some more?” Yes! And then someone else had to ask, “HOW many tablespoons of butter are in this? Six?? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME??” Ok, that last question was a bit overkill; clearly, I was being handed a mandate. More, but less. I had a new mission.
So, off I went. To refine and reduce and remake a yummy bread pudding without all the fat. A good for you bread pudding. A bread pudding to revolutionize the world. A cure for all that ails you. Seriously, sometimes I buy my own press.
Under the cut is what I came up with… it’s so far from the original that I feel perfectly fine calling this my own recipe. It’s going on the list with baguettes and champagne: never, ever, day old.
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