My Dog is Chelsea

Well. I will not try to recreate the other night’s post. It really wasn’t all that great of a post anyway, just a lot of bragging on my end. Basic recap of what you would’ve noticed had I not accidentally deleted it:

• Bragging about my new pride and joy that arrived via Santa Claus UPS from Uncle Joe:

• Bragging about what I made with my new, beautiful bright red enamel-coated cast iron risotto pan: acorn squash risotto (per a recipe that came with the pan. Never would’ve thought to throw acorn squash into a risotto but I highly recommend it).

• Bragging about what I served with the risotto: arugula salad with avocado, pomegranate seeds and scallion tossed in olive oil and the juice of half a lemon.

• Bragging about what I made for dessert: hot drinking chocolate (THICK, liquefied delicious chocolaty goodness. The recipe made about 3 cups which was more than enough for the 4 mouths I was feeding).

• Bragging about how damn good the meal was.

• Complaining about Asa’s contempt of all things joyous (Christmas decorations, cupcakes, risotto pans):

“What makes it a risotto pan as opposed to a food pan?” he demanded.

“Oh shut it. I’m sure you could make regular food with it and live to tell the tale,” I snapped back. (I have since made a risotto and a non-risotto dish. It does both quite well. But the brilliant thing about this fabulous risotto cooker is that the rice just doesn’t stick. Ever. Gone are the days of me yelling, “MAN DOWN!” as I fight to save a grain of rice becoming one with the cast iron skillet. And good riddance to those days, I say!)

Anyhoo. Today a new package arrived from Uncle Joe containing a Santa Claus cookie jar from UnJoe’s incredibly vast collection of little Santa statues. I put it next to the poinsettia and the growing collection of Christmas cards, much to Asa’s the Grinch’s chagrin.

(His jaw nearly hit the floor when I dragged home a Christmas tree and a wreath on the same day. I was able to convince him that the tree was OK because my coworker had rescued it from her father-in-law’s Christmas tree farm from a pile of saplings slated for burning. Plus it was only 3 feet tall. I bought the wreath from another coworker who was selling them to raise funds for her son’s school. Saving a tree AND education all in one fell swoop—argue that, Grinch!)

Also in the box from my uncle were two very large brass candlesticks that I can only imagine were the type that Col. Mustard might have used to clonk someone over the head in the conservatory. They are quite enormous. Apparently, my father gifted them to my grandmother years ago and so my uncle wanted me to have them. They are very stately and demand a mantle and fireplace, neither of which I have in my tiny slumlord apartment, but I’ve got an idea: these will make fantastic lamps. A simple light fixture and some wiring down their hollow shafts (shudder, I hate using that word) and a pair of lampshades will turn these candlesticks into funky temporary reading lights until I have a grand fireplace and mantel on which to properly display them.

“Your father would’ve liked that idea, I’m sure,” my uncle said.

So, add that project to the long list of “things I would like to do should I ever find the time.”

In other news, last night was the final night of bowling league. Thank god. My score going into the fifth inning (or whatever it’s called) was a whopping NINE. Nine, folks. You really have to try hard to be such a bad bowler. Well—I don’t have to try, but you would. I wore my pink dragon costume and won “BEST COSTUME” (as I was the only one in costume) and took home a free pint glass for my outfit efforts. So all was not lost. Oh—I accidentally bowled a strike during the warm-up round. And then a series of gutter balls from there on in.

And since this entry has no narrative strain whatsoever, I will move on to my next thought, which is this:

Why do candy canes (and all things “mint”) have red stripes? Peppermint, last I checked, was green. So why the red? What the hell is that all about? Wikipedia tells me that candy canes were white and not minty until us United Statesians got our dirty paws on them in the early 1900s and added both features. Mint, I’m OK with. But red? WHY?! What’s the point?

This (red lake #40) brings me to the cupcakes. So, at work we had a cakewalk, which is like musical chairs with cakes. The idea is that you make a cake (or buy one) and bring home a different cake. Well, I made a flourless chocolate cake (my favorite cake ever, both to make and to eat) and came home with a box of cupcakes from a local cupcake bakery. I had to cheat to get these, and they were well worth it. I freaking LOVE cupcakes (longtime readers may recall this) and these cupcakes were among the best I’ve ever had. So. I bring home this box of vanilla and chocolate cupcakes slathered in a vanilla buttercream frosting and topped with red and green sprinkles.

Mr. Grinch examines the box.

“Look what I got at work!” I exclaim, opening the lid to reveal the gems inside.

He doesn’t say a word. He picks up a chocolate cupcake and peels off the wrapper, dropping it back into the box. Slowly, he brings the cupcake to his face, smells it, and then stops.

“Ugh. I wish they wouldn’t cover these things in artificially-colored sprinkles,” he says. And with that, the cupcake disappears in one gigantic bite.

Tomorrow I think I’ll put twinkle lights on our porch.