The Year We Ruined Christmas

Is there a difference between your Internet friends and your real friends? What is it?

Ok, I've been away for too long. But I have an excuse--Job Search 2010. I've been feeling way more anxious than I thought I would. I guess I fell victim to coworkers and acquaintances telling me it was a bad time to find a job (no kidding--you're not the only ones watching the local news!).

My confidence suffered, and I was looking into alternate careers. And then I got several job offers. Mind you, these offers were before the standard hiring period, which really put my mind at ease.

So I felt great. Then I didn't know which job to choose. After ten years at one job, it's difficult for me to articulate what I really want in a new place of employment. I thought and thought, and then I decided to sleep on it.

And then I stopped sleeping. Dreams of interviewing, choosing, and proving myself filled my head.

Today I hope to stop all that. I've made my choice, and I'm dealing with all the subsequent paperwork.

It looks like I'll be a gifted and talented specialist in a local public school--what a great step up, and what a great fit for me!

Now I'm not sleeping because I've got a new job and new expectations to learn....

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A Genius Amongst Us

Great news!  A wonderful, dear friend has done the enviable--she wrote a book!  It's all that's described and more: 

When Alison Ryan's husband broke the news that he was being transferred to the United States embassy in Paris, the French teacher and lifelong Francophile was estatic. A year later with their young daughter in tow, the couple moved into an apartment near the Champs-Élysées, just as autumn was settling over the city. Paris with Kids is her memoir of the five years she spent as an American mom in Paris, an outsider with a front-row seat at the social theater of Parisian high society. Compared with the decidely laissez-faire attitude of the Parisians, Ryan's American sensibilities are often downright prudish. But thanks to her innaate curiosity, her robust sense of humor, and her deep, genuine affection for the French language and culture, Paris with Kids translates into a thoughtful, humorous portrait of French life.

I've read the book, and I loved it! I read it in one sitting; it was that good! I'm living proof that you don't need kids, knowledge of French, or an overseas job to relate to this wonderful memoir!

50s FAIL

Well, it turns out no one wants to eat the food gems of the 50s. Although the atomic age made miraculous use of preserved, processed food, I guess we've moved on. Hubby didn't  appreciate the delightful meal I made for him.

 
I guess I'll move on. Our giant blizzard has left me with lots of time on my hands. I'm in the middle of crafting a homemade Valentine keepsake, and that alone is frustrating me. Mod Podge, wooden heart boxes, and glitter are only cute when wielded by toddlers, I'm learning.

This used to be a car.

50s initiative update #2

Well, the food part of my challenge was a reeking failure. As I scoured my treasured, first-edition Betty Crocker cookbook, I realized that we simply can't eat the way the did in the 50s. A drink, appetizer, salad, entree, 2 vegetable sides, bread, and dessert/hot toddy? No way! Not only do I not care to cook all that for one meal, I don't care to eat all that. Hubby did remind me that portions were smaller in the 50s, so it probably wasn't as gut-busting as it seems.

Still... I modified our menu to have an appetizer, entree,vegetable, and dessert.  Following my self-imposed rules, I found recipes from that same Betty Crocker cookbook.  We had: Cheese Cubes with Olive on Pretzel Rods, Puffy Frankfurters (hotdogs stuffed with mashed potatoes and baked), baked sweet potatoes (probably a tab bit too healthful to be authentic, but tasty nonetheless), frozen veggies (hey, from all my research, I've learned that convenience foods were the bees' knees in the atomic age), and brownies.

Hubby hated the majority of the meal. I don't think he even touched the delightful pretzel rod appetizer, which was so reminiscent of atoms, ions, and the burgeoning space race graphic trend.  He refused to eat the frozen veggies, and nibbled on the Puffy Frankfurters. Oh, and he devoured the sweet potatoes, but in fairness, that was probably because they were the most natural thing on his plate, not because they were well-cooked. Even I could tell they were overly salty.

Yikes. This challenge isn't going so well!

   

50s Initiative Update #1

So excited was I over the prospect of a new project, I jumped right into becoming the perfect 50s homemaker. (Please. No housewives here. Homemakers, or even Home Engineers. Never mind the fact that I work full time.)

I read, researched, and laughed at the wonderful hints I found. Here are the two tips I embraced from my reading immediately.

1. Clear away all clutter.  Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives, gathering up school books, toys, paper, etc. Then run a dust cloth over the tables. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift, too.  (This one is from http://vintymag.wordpress.com/2007/05/07/1950s-homemaking-tips-a-crash-course/.)

2.  Speak only in a low, soothing voice. Your husband has worked hard all day and will appreciate a calm atmosphere.  Can't remember where I read this gem. 

The result?  Well, first of all, who doesn't appreciate a cleaner, less cluttered home? Hubby and I both reaped the fruits of this last clean sweep, though he did think it very odd that I was overcome with a frenzy of activity just as he walked in the door. I guess my timing isn't quite right yet.

Tip #2 wasn't quite as well-received. While I felt my voice was low, soothing, and pleasant, husband found it "creepy."  I told him he didn't need to hear the shrill, strident tones of my female voice, but he replied that he preferred it to my new, Stepford tones.  I don't take that as total rejection though--it just means that my soothing nature needs to grow on him. 

New Initiative

Because I love a project, and because my ukulele lessons simply aren't interesting enough to write about, I thought I'd begin a new initiative: I'll follow the "state of the art" advice for any mid-century modern housewife as prescribed in cookbooks, magazines, and books of the day.

I just need to compile my resources and make a plan of action.

It's been so long I couldn't remember my username...

Circa 1864

While in Sweden, I was privileged to spend time with my relatives. I got to spend time on the family farm, so to speak, though of course the farm has left my family since moving to America.  It was amazing to me, however, to learn just how connected my Swedish relatives were to one another, and it was amazing to hear that my cousins could trace our roots back four hundred years or more. It was really special to spend time in that place, and I guess I can only liken the experience of visiting it to being born in a really small town and then coming back to get to know people there. This was such an amazing experience that words can't capture it. I'm not even trying to be articulate here, but I'm sure you've already noticed that.

Below is a picture of me posing (yes, Sven-Arne, I'm posing and not touching it!) near a spinning wheel from the 1860s that is part of the Nilsson family. (My maiden name is Nelson--it was changed from Nilsson at Ellis Island). That whole house is full of museum-quality pieces!

Below, I look wistful as i ponder the nature of life.  What you can't see is that I've stumbled into a restaurant that's part of 15th century caverns in Antwerp. Those bricks behind me are nearly 600 years old and unrestored!  It was a really cool place, and the host/owner was a really cool guy who shared his passion for preserving the historical nature of his restaurant with us. 

It Is Simply Not Possible

That was the answer to my question. I wanted to upgrade my economy seat to business class, and according to the ticket agent on the phone, I had enough miles to do so.  However, she neglected to point out that my ticket class didn't allow upgrades, even if I wanted to pay for it. In desperation, I offered to pay cash for an upgraded seat, but alas, it wasn't allowed. I would have had to buy a whole new plane ticket, one in the class I wanted.

I understand that economy class fares aren't the cream of the crop, but if an airline has unsold upgraded seats (which mine did), why not allow an upgrade? Maybe they won't allow it using miles, but maybe they could allow the passenger to pay the difference, if nothing else.

Ugh.

However, I had a wonderful time in Europe.  I can't complain too much!