December 16th

 When you're a child and your birthday falls on a Friday, chances are very high that your family will be celebrating it on the weekend that follows. And if the birthday is of a certain little Chicago girl and if she is turning two, chances are very high that I will be there for that celebration.

Early this morning, after the usual...

... I get in Alpine Blue and drive to Chicago. December is a good time for me to do a "road trip" because I can have my fill of bouncy, jazzy, and sentimentally old fashioned Christmas music while I'm driving. Sometimes I sing along, but mostly, I just smile at the mood this creates for me. True, there isn't a dusting of snow, just pounding rain, but still -- I jingle all the way to the big city.

(and the windshield wipers go whoosh whoosh whoosh...)

And by late morning I'm at the Chicago home of the younger family. 

Birthday celebrations aren't until tomorrow. Today, there's just the joy of seeing their Christmas tree, their holiday home, the girls of course, and as an extra treat -- a meetup with a good east coast friend of my daughter's -- a fantastically witty, funny, caring woman whom I last had lunch with when my girl was still in law school. She's visiting the young family and for this lunch, today, she has prepared platefuls of latkes!

(girls at play)

(a moment of quiet...)

(lunch!)

(the household empties out for a Primrose recital; I stay with Juniper...)

That's not the end of good eating: after the recital, and the nap of the little one, and all the predictable and wonderful elements of this visit, my daughter's friend turns to making paczki. It's Hannukah (though really, a day past it), it's Poland, it's fried dough balls for goodness sake! Stuffed with blackberry jam.

(pause while the dough rises...)

(voila!)

Evening. The kids have their bedtimes, their dad tucks them in and keeps an eye on them while my daughter, her friend and I go out for a dinner at Daisies. A very beloved Chicago eatery that has caught the attention of many. Wonderful, creative appetizers, sublime pasta dishes...

And importantly, I get to jump into my daughter's world, where family isn't the common denominator. It's a whole new perspective for me -- a younger one, but not so young as to put me on a totally different planet. And as always when I am with my daughters' friends -- it is hugely fun. Both girls know how to pick friends who make you smile, no, make that outright laugh.

I'm overnighting at the nearby hotel because their house is full and will be even fuller tomorrow.

Sleep. I need some sleep before tomorrow's celebrations! But it is so good to be here in this tumult of family, friendship and radiant faces of two little girls! I stay up just thinking about it all...

With so much love...

December 15th

The day is notable for the fact that I no longer have any grandchildren under the age of two. Happy Birthday, Juniper!

Question: why do I get up today at 4:30? Ed as well? Answer: we really both have a lot on our plates right now. 

Question: why did the chicken sit in a tree? Answer: I do not know.

Question: why does Unfriendly Snowflake love eating breakfast with us, given that she never gets fed then? Answer: She likes us best when we are sitting down.

The day is notable, too, for the crazy returns on which I spend precious morning hours. Print label, tape box, send back, dont need it, can do without. Print next label, slight sigh of regret, but -- dont need it, can do without. And so on. It is a very inefficient way to save money, but still, I did it and I'm glad (with only tiny regrets!).

I pick up the kids, we do our usual Friday rush. But with time for books/play/food.

Sparrow is off for his last violin lesson of the year, Snowdrop has her last ballet class of the year -- the one where parents (and the likes of them) are invited to sit in and take pictures.  I have five for you. you always hope to bring out the dance moments, and yes, Snowdrop is a fine dancer. But what has always stood out for me is her smile as she dances. It is completely genuine.

And then I am home. You'd think that I'd be sleepy. It's been a while since I'd had a night of luxurious rest. But no, in the evening, I join Ed on the couch, I slurp a big bowl of chili and we watch the next episode of Bad Sisters. (You really get very attached to the murderous lot of them!) I typically post an Ocean story right after we finish our show-watching and today is no different. But believe me, the day doesn't end there. Emails to answer, online shopping to accomplish (to restock some of the items I returned earlier!), stories to exchange with Ed. No early sleep today. Not tomorrow either. Sunday? I doubt it. After Christmas! No, after the New Year! Maybe after my birthday in April.

If busy people are happy people, then I am right up there in joy and mirth!

with so much love...

December 14th

How about this:

On the 14th day of December my true love gave to me:

Five gold streaks of sunshine,

Four French hens (plus Unie),

Three kinds of berries,

Two burning (fake) candles,

And a bowl of my new favorite granola (Hudson Henry maple walnut).

The air is full of music. My head is full of song. That's the way some mornings are -- buoyant and lyrical.

Good morning, animals! Happy to see that our evening prowler (an opossum) did not get into the coop. Chickens all accounted for. Cats fed. Time to focus on those inside the farmhouse.

Breakfast, with a second candle added to our faux hygge world.

It's gorgeous outside! One of those isolated flings of sunshine and warmth (50F/10C!). We bike our loop. Not for super long -- we're both insanely busy right now, but still, you cannot ignore all that brilliance.

And very quickly the time comes for pickup.

The schedule is a little different today in that I am to picking up Sandpiper at the end of his school day as well...

And with all three, drive over to my daughter's house. The kids find activities, their mom and I talk. 

This is so rare: she and I see each other constantly, but time to chat without a child tugging at the sleeve is really not so easy to find. Today we made the time for it. Not long, but still, lovely.

When I return home, I find a package from an old Ocean friend. A retired artist (though do artists ever really retire? Do singers stop singing? Do writers stop writing?), he has occasionally gifted me some of his work. This time, I'm the proud owner of three beautiful pieces, done of the older kids. You'll see them over the years as I position them in their new spaces. Though here's a glimpse...

Thank you, Dan.

Chili for supper. I thought the weather would surely call for it, but hey, I make chili in the summer as well. Nothing fills you more on a busy day.

And a partridge in a pear a little girl in a Christmas tree... 

December 13th

My oh my, this was some day! Dictated by flip flops and pierogi! Well, perhaps I'm making it sound more exotic than it really was. Let's roll it back to another sleepless night (more fidgeting and retreating with travel plans lead to turning and tossing) and early wake up. For me. Ed slept in. He doesn't live by the clock like I do.

Early animal feed. How pretty Unie looks in the early light, now that she has regained most of her feathers!

And breakfast. A little fast paced -- Ed wants to get to his computers and machines and plasma cutters.

And then boom! Quite suddenly, everything surrounding (next month's) travel was resolved. That out of the way, I was ready to go on my big adventure of the day -- the opening of the new grocery store. 

Fine, you may think this is literally the most boring thing a person could do. Something out of the fifties, where the missus gets tickled by nicely starched napkins and sparkling flatware. But grocery buying for me is so much more! It's the love of fresh foods and well grown produce that I've had since my younger years. It's the fondness for a store that moved to town nearly30 years ago, a store that I faithfully shopped in, despite its cramped quarters, its ratty interior and its too-small parking lot. It's the pandemic that took me away from in person shopping. It's the closure of that ratty store this past Sunday. All that!

The new one opened today. (It took them years to find and build the space. And it is large!)

My daughter and I met up to take a look. She needed a few items. I had a larger list to check off (in my head!).

The space is fantastic! Big, high ceiling, beautiful, with perhaps five times the shelf space of the previous one. I worried that it would feel like a tediously dull supermarket, but the aisles were all interesting, all full of good surprises! And there were samples to lure you in.

(pierogi!)

And some small farmers letting you try their foods (the chicken guy with his pastured French hens! outstanding meat!) And the produce section! Just incredible. 

Today, the prices were great because, of course, opening day prices (on some items) are always great. I loved browsing again. Picking out the best looking fruits. Talking to their always friendly always helpful staff (in plentiful supply today, guiding, pointing...). And I loved seeing no fewer than four of my favorite (older!) checkout people! They'd been with the store for years and they were still here, on opening day. (My first thought was -- oh! I am so glad you survived the pandemic! those heroic essential workers!)

Of course, there's that recognized downside to in-person shopping. It took me nearly 2.5 hours to get there, shop, get back, unload. Perhaps it's because I went through the whole store three times to master the layout. In any case it was worth it! It's good to recover some of the pre-pandemic habits (even though I did wear a mask), in this very lovely, very privileged setting.

In the afternoon, I checked in with my dentist once again. Third time's the charm and the replacement tooth finally fit! Miracle on December 13th!

A pause to pick up a coffee from a cafe (I had secretly hidden chocolate covered gingerbread cookies in my pocket from home) and then a quick drive to the kids' school.

We come to the farmhouse...

And some of us run in at full speed...

Others settle in quickly to pursue a "life's passion" (at least for now, at age 5).

It's cold and dark by the time we leave for their drop off, but truly I do not mind. The ground is firm and crunchy, the stars are incredibly brilliant. 

And I cook chili. In my old yellow pot. Uncovered. On my one new induction burner.

With love...

December 12th

After bouncing around such weighty issues as candles and stoves and food prep and who knows what else, Ed and I have reached a new, wonderful level of calm and quiet understanding. And love. It's always like that, isn't it? When you get into a tailspin, you either perish or come out stronger. We've always chosen to hang on and ride out the turbulence and it has always (knock on wood) served us well. We are older and wiser and we know what's at stake! 

No, the stove issue is not resolved. No, I'm not lighting anymore candles this year or next. No, I'm not changing my cooking methods. Nonetheless, we are happily putting all that aside for now and focusing on other stuff. Like the fact that it is the middle of December, and the sun is out, and our house is so softly warm -- not too hot, not too cold, just perfect. 

My travel turbulence remains on high alert, however. I am considering a major change to a forthcoming trip and I honestly stayed up most of the night trying to figure out how to accomplish it. (It's complicated!!) I'm beginning to think that I spend more time on travel planning and rearranging than I do on the actual travel itself! I am always happy that I start in early, many many months in advance of a trip, because I do nab good airfares that way. But then I get inspired to move things around and from that base the trip wiggles and shifts and morphs into something else. This has been the pattern, and it is one I deeply like.

All this talk of cooking and traveling has really deprived me of needed sleep, so once again I'm not exactly high energy in the morning. (Usually this is my most productive set of hours.) I walk to feed the animals, noting that the feeding station had been disturbed at night, so once again we are on predator alert. 

Chickens in the barn, five cats in the sheep shed, one cat on the porch, one cat at the farmhouse. Done.

Then I cook up a breakfast for Ed and myself. He's working again at the machine shop today, learning some new technology or other. It's a filling and nourishing morning meal today, for the both of us.

There followed the tumult of redesign (of a trip) and very quickly it was noon and I realized my movement for the day had amounted to me moving my fingers across a computer keyboard and nothing more than that.

So I walk. Reluctantly. We're at freezing once again. The silver lining? Brilliant sunshine. Now, if only there'd be snow on the ground...

And in the afternoon, I pick up the kids, 

... but we do something different: we pick up some cookies at Clasen's... 

... and take them over to my mother's place. I think she has been lusting for chocolate covered gingerbread. Mission accomplished!

Evening: a cat fight outside, total peace inside. I have yet to figure out how to prevent these occasional feline skirmishes. I step outside, I shout a few obscenities at them, eventually the night calm is there, for all of us.

December 11th

You know how everyone's keen on choosing the "word of the year?" How Oxford Dictionaries picked "rizz" for 2023 (but dont get bummed if you haven't heard it, because they picked "goblin mode" for 2022 and I swear I never heard that one uttered once that whole year)? Well, I do believe that if you write a blog every day, you are entitled to pick a word as well. I have one for December 2023! Ocean hereby proclaims it to be "burning."

*     *     *

Very early this morning, before there is even a hint of dawn, Ed and I are lost in our world of computer searches. And I am thinking -- I do so love the phrase "mixed blessing." It's as if a divine being has bestowed on you a gift beyond all gifts, a blessing, but has also placed hot burning coals in your path toward realizing its bounty.

Ed's newfound interest in my oven and stove top troubles is a mixed blessing.

To recap -- the farmhouse stove top is gas powered and it is unvented, so that we are guaranteed a steady flow of particles into the air. "We" perhaps is the wrong designation. 99.9% of stove top cooking is done by me. (Ed is a committed micro-waver.) We've compensated by running an air purifier and by purchasing an electric induction burner. Nonetheless, last night I had, in addition to the induction burner, four gas burners going. Sunday dinners are like that. 

Additionally, we are struggling with the oven's problems, which I've groaned about since we purchased the damn thing twelve years ago. It's now being addressed by Ed as he mobilizes his energies to finding quirky solutions to solve the irregular heating patterns. 

Do you cook big meals for your tribe? Have you been doing it for more than half a century? And maybe you're skilled? Like, for example, maybe your city's high end restaurant hired you to cook with them for several years? Followed by baking with them for yet another set of year? In other words, you're not a dunce in the kitchen maybe? And just one more thing: maybe your partner has never, ever cooked a dinner for a group of people in his 73 years of life? Maybe he's a little idiosyncratic in his tastes, too? Like dumping Chalula spicy Mexican sauce on his dinner every single night and adding raw onion to it as well? So, quirky, maybe? 

Well now, you tell me how good is it to have said person standing over your shoulder while you're working five pots on all those burners, telling you things like "put a lid on the pasta!" "lower the boil!" "decrease the water in that pot!" because said person wants to show you how there are ways to decrease particles in the air, and you've been doing it all wrong and by the way, here's an article on the internet, on the internet no less, telling you that you dont need much water or a rolling boil for pasta after all!

That was yesterday, though the article showed up in my inbox this morning. Off to a good start!

*     *     *

I fed the animals in a rush...

I had an early morning appointment with my allergist. He wants to strike that line from my medical charts ("allergic to penicillin"), because he thinks it was a faulty conclusion, made many decades ago, and I may someday need penicillin, and it's best to have it as an option when all bacterial hell breaks loose.

While in his office, swallowing one tablet of amoxicillin after another, I chatted about allergies. I told him about Ed's allergic asthmatic reaction to my beloved winter candles. He laughed and said: "two things: first of all, my wife loves the scented candles and every once in a while I gag on a fragrance she burns. So, I know the feeling. But, without knowing your partner, I am going to venture to say anyway that he is not having an allergic asthmatic reaction. He likely has vocal cord dysfunction and it likely makes him somewhat sensitive to certain smells. It feels like asthma, but it's not. You think your breathing is constricted and you rasp, but it really is not the same as asthma, nor an allergy."

So I ask -- is it the candle or the fragrance that's the problem? And he tells me -- almost for sure the specific fragrance. Candles, unless they're made of some toxic stuff, aren't going to do that to you. 

Bottom line: I am not allergic to penicillin and Ed is likely not allergic to the burning of candles. 

*     *     *

An allergy test takes time, so I eat breakfast very late and without Ed, who is working with his machines today.

And it's an especially unhealthy, sweet breakfast and I don't care! I'm in that kind of a mood.

*     *     *

Last night, as Ed threw out solutions to fix the oven problem (put bricks inside, call the manufacturer, etc etc) and I was cleaning up after the dinner, thereby losing my patience by the minute, he saw my exasperation and said -- okay, just get a new oven. We're done.

The last time he said this ("just do it") was when I wanted to get a couple of pigmy goats. He was so opposed to the idea that he went along, physically went along, accompanying me to goat farms, searching out goats for sale. But he was not on board in spirit. And he knew I would come across a stumbling block which I would not be able or willing to overcome and the project would fizzle and that is exactly what happened. I could not get a fence up on time for the arrival of the goats on which I had actually placed a deposit. I could not put up a fence by myself. I could not build a shack for them. Not without spending great sums of money which I do not have. So, no goats.

I swear that this was his strategy with the stove. To swap out the gas for the electric, we would need to rewire. We would need to get rid of this stove. We would have to find in a timely fashion the new one and have it here and installed without a glitch. All this would cost lots of money and time and it is not a project I would want to carry out on my own.

So, our burning issues have dominated our December discussions and, therefore, my Ocean posts. Do I even realize that it's December 11th, just two weeks before Christmas Day??

I wrap two more gifts and put on the music really really loudly. The cats run upstairs and lock themselves (figuratively) in the bedroom.

*     *     *

In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. What a breath of fresh air! My attention focuses on her and her joys and woes (no woes today). 

*     *     *

Food preparation this evening is all about leftovers and the microwave. Smooth sailing. We do not have to talk about burning particles and erratic temperatures. 

In the meantime, Ed is with his detective tools, sticking bricks in the oven, measuring, counting. And then -- I know how to fix the particles problem! You boil the water on the induction burner. Put in the pasta. Take it off the burner. It'll keep on cooking! Put on your next pot, heat it up, take it off. We'll get some cozies to cover the pots. You move them around. That way, you dont have to use the gas burners at all. 

He got no smile out of me for that one. Not until later, when we were done with the burning subject of...stoves. 

With so much love...

December 10th

Well that was one unusual morning!

Up as always, 7:30-ish. Shower, tidy, head out to feed the animals. And I say to Ed -- you know, I may as well go to Whole Foods on this last day that it's open in its old location. When I stopped by a couple of days ago just to take a look, the clerk told me they're planning a (secret, spread only by word of mouth) closeout sale today. 50% off of EVERYTHING, to empty out the shelves. Only he said that everything will go quickly, so I should aim to be there soon. We need more fruit...

Go now. I'll feed the animals. (This from Ed.)

(in the driveway, ready to pull out...)

I'm at the store at 8:05, so just five minutes after its opening. There is not a single parking space available in the lot. 

I park up the hill, in the residential blocks and walk down, grabbing a cart along the way. I enter.

There is a a buzz in the air. A huge buzz! If you know this particular store, you'll agree with me that it has never been well suited for large grocery carts. The aisles are narrow, things are rather close. Well now! Pack all available carts into that store, inject some energy into the shoppers and it's like Times Square in New York and Oktoberfest in Austria, all rolled into one! 

I'm here for the fruits, but, too for foods for the next few days, as the new store wont be opening until later in the week. But now that I'm inside, I, too, want those sales! Frozen shrimp -- plunk, one container, and another. Organic canola oil? For sure! I see that in the ten minutes of being open, all olive oils are gone! I go up the aisles and fill the cart. Carefully systematically. Comte cheese? Plunk. Milk cartons. Make that two. Plunk, plunk. Bacon for family gathering, yogurts for breakfast. Spices! Let's get some spices! Cinnamon, coriander, vanilla extract. Plunk, plunk, plunk. Laundry detergent! Walnut butter! Expensive stuff that suddenly is so much more reasonable. Yogurts, flowers, so many fruits, lettuces, beans. Excuse me, while I maneuver the cart here. Oh no, that's my fault, so sorry, this way!

What do I notice? That everyone is so very happy! I try to explain this later to Ed -- this sudden gift of expensive food being made inexpensive. Less, by far than the big box supermarkets, just on this one day, before the holidays, when everyone's food needs are so over the top -- a gift of all the food you want, at half price. It's an incredible boost to the spirit!

Ed says  -- if people spent that same time searching out cheaper phone prices, cheaper services and things that they need on a regular basis, they'd save more money.

But that's not the point! You're let loose in a grocery store where you can have anything, anything at all for half price! It's such a gift!

[I am well aware of the fact that in doing this only by word of mouth, they're bringing in today their in-person customer base -- hardly the people who most need a severe grocery discount. Still, had there been a public announcement, the store would have been overwhelmed to the point that no one would have been very happy and I'm sure they want to keep their steady base tickled pink so that these people will come to shop in their new store. Such is capitalism! At least no special password or secret handshake was required. Whoever came, got the discount. Donations were collected for the food bank, I'll give them that. You would have had to have been an utter ass to save big and not give a bunch, as you gloated over your haul.]

And now comes the reality of the long check-out line. What I have always loved about this particular Whole Foods is that the store is run really well. The employees are well trained and they are on good terms with each other and therefore with you as well. And that organization and management did this day well too. A very cheerful person snaked the checkout line all around the store (there must have been 100 full carts waiting at any one time). It went quickly enough and as you passed shelves, you threw in more stuff into your cart! Aluminum foil, cupcake papers, corn tortillas. Yes, I need those too! Cholula hot sauce for Ed. And flowers! More apples! Let me throw in another bag of apples. 

And finally, I am done.

As I walk over to get the car, I see that latecomers have formed a very, very long line now just to get in the store.  My early arrival, indeed my very knowledge of this massive closeout sale was just happenstance. I had gone to get a body kneading and pounding and I had stopped in, learned of the sale, and this morning, Ed took care of the animals. And now I'm leaving with a car packed with groceries. Half price.

At home, over breakfast...

... I tell Ed that I have missed grocery shopping for us. I've mentioned here that I haven't done it in person since Covid struck in March. I dont enjoy the long car ride (17 minutes, each way), when I already spend so much time shuttling kids and myself into town, back to the farmette, into town, back to the farmette. But picking out foods for the week? Turns out I have, in fact, missed that. I have never worked off a grocery list. Not since Ed and I have been together. I merely walk, look and decide. The store is small enough that just by looking, I remember what I need for the week. (Holidays have been the exception: I definitely needed lists for Thanksgiving and Christmas!) I liked imagining meals right there in the store. I liked looking at produce and seeing what is bountiful and what is really a seasonal afterthought. 

The question is -- will I go back to shopping now? When the new store opens? I dont know. With so little free time in my week, it seems like a waste of it. And yet...

In the evening the young family is here for dinner. Last one before the holidays! Everyone is feeling bouncy. Mostly in a good way!

(settling down with a book...)

(silliness percolates again...)

After they leave, I clean up and guess what -- I resolve issues that had plagued me all day yesterday. I make the travel changes. I'm happy. And Ed's struggles with our faltering oven? That's a less straightforward story. We've reached that point where he is exasperated with my impatience and I am impatient with his exasperation. He has at least three things he'd like to try as I bake and see what happens. Guess who does not want to go through a season of baking flops before we finally give up on the oven and admit that it is an unfixable dud? 

An impasse, to be sure. In many ways, I feel for Ed: the stove lights up, gives heat. What more could you ask for! At the moment, I'm going along with weird fixes -- like placing a pizza stone on the bottom. Not sure why that would shrink the dead band, but I have no objection to trying. For now. Do I want a new range? Yes.. Will we get one? Our track record for "new and improved" is not good, but I cannot tell what 2024 will bring.

(three cats a-sleeping...)

With love...

December 9th

I have to say, many would regard this day of mine as a bust. I have nothing to show for it. A job I assigned for myself took about 8 hours and amounted to big miss: I did not accomplish the goal of fixing a technical issue in one of my trip itineraries. Bummer, you say? Not really! I thoroughly enjoyed trying to fix it! It's as if I was already navigating airports, train stations and coffee shops (which featured prominently in my adjustment plans). Will I try again tomorrow? Or the next day? Probably not. This was my last free day for... a long long time! 

Ed, too, immersed himself in trying to fix something. Basically, he wanted to know what the hell is going on with our oven. It's never baked things well, despite the fact that I inserted a thermometer in there to see if it really heated to the temperature that was indicated on the nob. Well, equipped with his best Sherlockian detective skills and devices (a watch and a faultless thermometer), Ed has indeed unraveled the issue: the dead band -- meaning the interval between when the oven first heats to a certain number and when it goes on to reheat to that number after a pause, is too long and the temperature drops a whopping 100 degrees in the interim. This is why for years, my cakes have required an excessive baking time, way longer than the recipe asks of them. Of course, the results are imperfect: too crusty on the outside as we all wait for the inside to be done. It's not a problem for muffins or cookies, but it is a huge problem for breads and especially cakes. 

Like for my travel technicalities, there is no easy fix for the oven problem. (My idea -- get a new oven, preferably an electric one -- is not going to play well in this neck of the woods where we, or should I say Ed, are, is, loathsome to swap out an old item for a new one. But, as with my travel stuff, this was not a wasted day. We learned something! And, too, I feel like all those cake imperfections I've struggled with in recent years have a ready explanation. It's good to know what's wrong, even if the fix isn't obvious.

All this may lead you to believe that the day was unusual and exasperating. Neither is true. I still fed the animals...

And we ate breakfast together  -- fruits and croissants (I did my run to the bakery!), along with the delicious cherry bourbon jam we'd picked up in Sun Prairie several weeks ago.

And very soon after, we took a walk in our local county park. We went early because I knew, I knew that I would lose myself in travel details and once that happened, I would not want to take a break until I was done. 

We were surprised to see a thin layer of ice on a part of Lake Waubesa. You can see it because the ducks and geese are actually on top of it! Sure, it's December, but we had had a warm up yesterday. Today as well -- it's not below freezing. I have to attribute it to our super cold nights. Which are only getting colder in the days to come.

Evening? Oh, really lovely. Warm, with our easy supper and a continuation of the new series I'd picked up on our streaming device (we have two free months of Apple TV+, so if you have recommendations before I ditch the service, let me know!). 

And yes, the tree twinkled and the music occasionally played and the cats went in and out and we were all as content as two bears buried in a den on a winter's day. Snug and yes, very cozy.

with love...