Just so you know...

...crunched up candy canes sprinkled on top of your typical cheesecake makes people who don't even know you that well propose marriage.








True story.



Note: this cheesecake also had a chocolate cookie crumb crust instead of your typical graham cracker crust. Also added to the delightfulness!

Part of His Charm

Hubby would do no good under torture. He'd have every dirty little secret out before you could even pinch him. Poor thing.

First off, he cannot keep a secret. He accidentally slipped and told me that he knew about the big secret I had been keeping- that his mother was coming out here for Christmas. I mean, that's pitiful. Second, I never get to open my presents from him on Christmas. It's always a week or two before. It's as though he purchases them, and then races home like Charlie and his golden ticket, just to spill the beans and force me to open it right away.

Not that "forcing" me to open a present is difficult. Hello!

This year was no exception. I got my Christmas present on Friday. A beautiful white sapphire ring. It's just the right size, right amount of shine and sparkle. The boy's got good taste. And he got a heck of a deal on it, which is even better since we aren't exactly high-rollin' it these days. His excuse was that he wanted to "re-create" the night he proposed to me 3 years ago- the first time he had a ring he was supposed to keep until Christmas day. :) Alright, a pretty gosh darn good excuse.

Does anyone else have a problem keeping secrets? Or presents until Christmas day?

By the Way...

I've kind of given up on my big list of things to write about. At least, for now. I feel like the holidays are such a great excuse to fall off the wagon, you know? It's a time of year I can eat more, drink more, sing along to Christmas songs, bake without being asked the occasion, have sappy family photos taken and then send them to all our family, AND slack in the blogging department. So. Don't bother asking, because I'll just blame Christmas. :)

It's December 5th.

PANIC.

Okay, just kidding. Kind of.

Here's the thing: Christmas is at my house this year. For the first time, ever. This is huge, because up until a few years ago, I was convinced that I couldn't boil water, let alone cook a whole dinner. And it's not for just a few people-- if everyone invited shows up, it'll be about 9. 9!

Part of me- most of me- is super excited. Growing up, everyone always came over to our house for Christmas (Well, every holiday, really) and it was the BEST. I loved having a houseful of people over- there is just something about it that is cozy and loving and warm and wonderful.

Of course, then I was a kid, and not my frantic mother who had to cook and clean up after these people. I've turned into my mother, folks. Not that that is much of a surprise, or even a bad thing. But still, you'd think I'd learn and just order Chinese take-out.

We're not even having a traditional Christmas feast. Which, I suppose if you're getting a free meal, you shouldn't complain. But...that's not the nature of human beings, is it? Hubby is sick of turkey. And ham. Fine. So we're doing flank steak. HE is doing it, not me, because he's supposed to be some meat BBQing master. Which is good, at least he is helping. Since we're doing that, I figured I'd make SORT OF traditional side dishes. Like green bean casserole. A jello salad my aunt used to make for every family function. Yummy bread rolls. What else??? I mean, NINE PEOPLE. I haven't even thought about desserts yet.

In the meantime, I also haven't done anything about presents. Mostly for Monkey. We have ideas of what we want to get, but we haven't gone shopping yet. He'll be 3 in January, so I feel like this is the first year he's fully coherent to what Christmas is all about. He's recognizing Santa on his own. He knows what snowmen are (which is impressive, since he lives in FL and hasn't seen snow up close and personal yet), and he helped me decorate our tree. He's definitely more involved this year, so I want to make sure that it's a fantastic Christmas for him- just in case he has an impressive memory. : )

All that, and there are of course a million things around town I'd like to do. We have Disney annual passes, since we're just down the road from Magic Kingdom, and I want to see every inch of Christmas that is up there. The gingerbread house at the Grand Floridian. The castle lit up with icicle lights. The dancing lights (we have seen those twice already). Then there's other things, like simply going to see Santa. Reading the Christmas story (the baby Jesus one) to Monkey. Watching all the great holiday classics.

Oh, and...enjoy the season. In my spare time! Does anyone else get bogged down by the rushing and bustling around to forget what this time of year is all about?

Thankful

It's really already Turkey time again? Where did the year go?

Not that I'm complaining. Any holiday that I can spend with my fam and pig out on delicious food is a-okay by me!

We are going to my in-laws for the big dinner, but I am making two desserts. That will, by the grace of God, be lovely. I hope. I pray. I am making basic cheesecake- that one I'm not worried about, I even have a premade crust for it, eh- but then, THEN, my big kahuna is a vanilla carmel pear tart. Oh yeah. That's right. It should be all sorts of devine as long as I don't screw it up.

Wish me luck. : )

Day 13: A Band Or Artist That Has Gotten You Through Some Tough Ass Days. (write a letter.)

Dear India.Arie, (Okay, seriously? Not writing a letter. I already sound like I'm writing to a pen pal in the second grade. Nerd alert!)

Scratch that. : )

Christmas 2005 was a rough one. I'm usually a fairly
chipper person; I'm not one to get depressed during the holidays.
I enjoy them. But this Christmas just felt different, in a crappy way.

I was 22. I lived alone, but was staying at my parents house for Christmas.
I was staying in my dad's office, that a little fold out bed in it- now I
cannot remember why, or who was staying in my old bedroom. But it
wasn't me. : )

So. Christmas Eve I was feeling blue, for some reason- or probably a
multitude of reasons. Instead of shopping for others, I ended up
buying myself a CD. That CD was India.Arie's Voyage to India.


I don't think I've ever listened to an album so much, over and over,
obsessing over every cord, every melody, every word like I
did with that album. I'd lay awake in the dark with my headphones
on, listening to songs on repeat as they soothed my soul.
I was going through a lot of weird love things- loving a guy thousands
of miles away (who had no idea), breaking up with a guy who'd
proposed to me only a year before, still flirting and going out
and meeting new guys all the time...it was my young and free
stage, but for some reason it was way too stressful for me to
deal with. This album somehow cleared the murky waters, it
was a balm that could be smoothed over my heart.

I am still to this day, in love with India's music. Anytime I get stressed
at work, or in life in general, I pop her into the CD player. She is my
ultimate chill-out guru. : )

Day 12: Something You Never Get Compliments On

Until recently, I've been slightly terrified of cooking. I had a bad experience when I was about 13, and it'd scarred me mentally. So then when I got married, I slooooowly came out of my cooking shell.

And I'm not bad! I'm still definitely a beginner- and strangely enough, I think I'm better at baking than actually cooking (did NOT see that coming). But I've also made a few better-than-edible things.

Every dinner time, we'll sit down to eat, and the Hubs hardly ever says a word. Nothing. Zip. I have to ask if its good, if he likes it, ANYTHING. I have to literally fish for compliments. I shouldn't, it's shameless, but I so desperately need that verification from him that I'm doing well, that I did something right, that I made him happy. It's so frustrating. And sad, because I feel like when it doesn't come willingly, I failed again.

I know I'm reading too much into it. First off, Hubs is very basic when it comes to food. He's very meat-and-potatoes. He doesn't like anything "different" or "exotic". And by exotic, I mean like goat cheese. He'd rather starve. So it is kind of tricky cooking for both of us when we have such different palettes. We don't even like any of the same veggies (his list is even shorter than mine, which I was unaware that was possible!). Second...the man's eating. That alone should tell me that its at least edible, right?

Still. It'd be nice to hear it, once in awhile. : )