Speecy Spicy

Today Holidailies has a request: Share a favorite recipe that you like to make (or persuade someone to make for you) at this time of year.

This isn’t holiday-related, but it is a favorite cold-weather meal and it’s the easiest thing to make: Grandma’s Slow Cooker Vegetarian Chili, on AllRecipes. You basically gather the ingredients, dump them all into a slow-cooker, and let it cook for two hours. I don’t want to violate any copyrights, so I won’t post the ingredients here, but trust me, this is savory scrumptiousness and it will fill you up. I tinker with the amount of chili powder depending on my mood, and dice up a half or whole jalapeno and throw it in if I want a little more heat, but other than that, this recipe is perfect, and it will make your home smell warm and spicy on a cold winter’s night.

If you’d like to add a simple dessert, spicy chocolate fudge is a good pairing, although this recipe is not vegan as it has condensed milk and some milk chocolate chips. I make it without nuts. There are two camps of fudge aficionado, pro-nut and anti-nut, and I am firmly in the anti-nut camp.

This YouTuber stopped posting seven years ago, and I miss her. She had some hilarious videos. One of my buddies originally found a personal video of hers in which she wishes someone with my name a happy birthday and then at the end says “don’t be fresh.” From there it just took off and we still laugh about it to this day.

If you’re a foodie, you might appreciate these next few videos. They always make me laugh because they’re just so true.

And my favorite, which is so Gen-X in attitude, I can’t help but love it.

That’s right. You’re not special.

Diana, whatever you’re up to now, I hope life is treating you well. Thank you for keeping your wonderfully sassy channel with all of its amazing recipes.

And now for tonight’s ornament, another new one.

A Christmas ornament featuring a penguin wearing earmuffs and holding an ice cream cone.

Cute little penguin, eh? I think my mother would have appreciated it. She loved penguins—although she didn’t quite understand them until late in her life. On one of my visits we were watching a documentary on them, and in one segment some Emperor Penguins approached the camera crew.

“You’re KIDDING,” she said. “Oh, I don’t believe it.”

“What?”

“I thought they were taller than that.”

“I dunno. Those are pretty big for penguins,” I said. “What did the guy say, three and a half to four feet? How tall did you think they were?”

“Like your father.”

My father and I looked at each other and just lost it. He was 6’1″.

“What?” she said. “It’s not like you ever see them standing next to anything in a picture so you can tell.”

Gotta admit, she had a point. But we never let her live it down after that. At Christmas I gave her a calendar of penguins, and my father held it up in front of his face and waddled around. “Look at me, the six-foot penguin!”

They weren’t perfect and they didn’t always get along, but one of the best things I can say about my parents is that they were never boring. He was an artist and one of the original MadMen. No joke, he worked for McCann, the agency AMC based the series on, at that time in its history. She was a civil servant who loved to write and originally wanted to be a journalist before I came along as an iltatähti and wrecked it all for her. (I like the Finnish term for late-life baby, meaning “evening star,” much better than the American “oops baby,” “mistake,” or “accident.”) He was Greatest Generation, she was early Silent, and we grew up with Big Band, war stories, New York sarcasm, a cookie-cutter house bought on the GI Bill after WWII, dogs, cats, and of course, “rules are rules, you’re not special.”

But that’s what made it all special.

No Sugar-Plums Here

Today Holidailies asks about things I once thought I’d do that I now know I’ll never ever do.

At first I thought, “Write a best-selling novel.” Then I realized that was defeatist. I’m only 58. I can’t rule that out yet. So I’ll go with the practical: Have kids.

Yes, Ms. Zero Population Growth over here once thought she’d have kids. This was when I was a kid, myself, playing house with dolls. In high school I began to doubt that I wanted kids. One of my sisters returned home to my parents’ house when she was in her mid-20s, divorced with two young kids in tow, and I got to babysit them that summer while she worked. Oh, they were fine and as well-behaved as you could expect a four-year-old and a seven-year-old to be. But ya know? I just wasn’t feeling it. Some teenage girls love kids—their mother did when she was in high school—but I didn’t have either the patience or maturity to deal with fights, crying, or trying to entertain them. Basically, I shut them up with ice cream.

Then I supposed I’d get married and have kids one day with my college sweetheart. Thank gawd that didn’t work out because while we were dating his mother married a guy who was tied to the Gambino family. As an Italian-American in the New York, New Jersey, Connecticut tri-state area, I wasn’t dating a Jewish boy only to fall in as a Mob wife. See also, although he had a nice start in life—prep school, transfered out of my alma mater to an Ivy League school after his sophomore year, went to law school, became an assistant district attorney down South—he blew it. Big time. Last I Googled him, he got disbarred because he got caught up in one of those awful scams where crooks sell older people fake insurance policies costing hundreds of dollars and worth nothing, and he ended up doing some time for it. Dodged a bullet there, boy howdy.

Anyway, in college I thought that if I was going to have a family, it might have been with him because I loved him, he was very devoted and faithful—almost doting—we had fun, his future was super bright, the kids would have wanted for nothing, and the icing was that the kids would have picked up some good tickets to the genetic lottery because the guy was also a model and had been a nationally ranked tennis player before he got injured, right before we met. I think even my Roman Catholic parents were past freaking out that he was Jewish because he looked so good on paper. Heck, at my childhood bestie’s wedding shower, my broad circle of Italian elders even said, “Wait, he wants to be a lawyer? Forget finding an Italian doctor. Go with the Jewish lawyer. He’ll treat you better.”

Gawd, growing up on Long Island was a riot.

Anyway, my college sweetheart did something bone-headed and made a big life decision, like drop it on me that he had been accepted to law school in California when I didn’t even know he had applied there. He just assumed I’d go out there with him. Well, kids, as I established with you a few entries ago, I don’t go anywhere just because a man says so, and as I wasn’t about to move there, I broke up with him. (And he ended up not going to law school there after all. He went to law school in—say it with me—D.C.)

After that, at the ripe old age of 22, I realized I didn’t want kids. Told every guy I dated after that the same thing. Some believed me and we parted ways, others thought they could convince me otherwise but they couldn’t. Even my ex-husband, who swore up and down he didn’t want them, decided two years into the marriage he might want them after all, and that was a major reason I divorced him. Yes, I divorced rather than have kids. That’s how much I didn’t want them.

It’s funny, no one in my family believed I didn’t want them, either, except my mother, who told me not to get married unless I did. (I should have listened!) The rest of them—my sisters, my father, my other relatives—were all “oh, when you meet the right guy, you’ll want them.”

“The right guy won’t want them either.”

“You’re young. You’ll change your mind.”

exasperated sigh

One day when I was in my mid-20s, my father really got on my last nerve with it. I was home visiting and he gave me the ol’ “When are you going to find a guy and have babies?”

“I’m going out to the bar tonight. It can be arranged.”

He looked at my mother, who I’m pretty sure was trying not to burst out laughing. “You believe this? Where did we go wrong?”

“What ‘go wrong?'” she said. “You have four grandkids from two of the other ones [two of my three sisters] so far. Two boys and two girls. What more do you want? Get off her back.”

“A WOMAN IS NOT COMPLETE WITHOUT A HUSBAND AND CHILDREN.”

“Oh, blow it out your ass.”

How I miss that woman.

Anyway, at 42 endometriosis got the better of me, I had all the plumbing taken out, celebrated with some gorgeous, expensive, high-threadcount white sheets, and here I am at 58, kid-free, no regrets.

And now for today’s ornament, one of the new deer.

A reindeer Christmas ornament.

Cardinal Virtue

It’s time for another Sunday Stealing! This is another random one from in the past, being that Sunday Stealing is on vacation for the rest of the year.

1.    Have you ever written to a celebrity?  Did they respond?

I wrote to Paul Stanley once. Nope, no response. It’s weird that I wrote to him and not Ace Frehley, though. Ace was my favorite.

 2.  Do you read letters immediately, or wait until ready to reply?

I don’t get letters or personal emails. I check work email two or three times a day and respond as necessary. A lot of employers out there expect immediate responses to emails, as did a former boss, but I can’t work that way. Writing requires chunks of uninterrupted time.

 3.   My preferences when it comes to reading:

Fiction, and my favorite genres are mystery, historic, and horror.

 4.   What I’m least likely to change my mind about:

The incoming US President. He’s disgusting through and through.

 5.   The topics I would get wrong about during trivia:

Sports, architectural styles, theater, cars.

 6.   What I’m hopeful about right now:

Not a whole heck of a lot, actually. The USA is heading for dark days. I’m glad I’m not a young woman. I cannot imagine what it would be like to have to worry about an unplanned pregnancy in the current political environment.

 7.   Philosophies I’ve learned/embraced from others:

I’m self-seeking and prefer Buddhist philosophy. Stoicism is a close second. They overlap in a lot of places.

 8.   What makes home feel like home?

Color. I cannot STAND the whole “beige aesthetic.” It’s boring and lacks imagination. I will always have blue couches and sofas. I will always have at least one room with some purple (currently have three). I will always have another room with shades of red (currently my office). My tree will always have colored lights.

 9.    Talents and skills I like to cultivate:

My rapport with other living creatures. I like knowing that they trust me and will often pick me out of a group of people to approach. Maybe they sense that I won’t try to eat them, like I pass the vegetarian smell test.
 
10.   What makes my heart race:

Too much sugar and/or caffeine.

11.  What power means to me:

The ability to walk away from things that don’t serve me and people who make life harder than it has to be. Hence my swearing off dating and relationships. They sap my energy. The last 10 years weren’t always easy, but they were a lot more peaceful than any time in my life with a man was. If I didn’t have to deal with the Wicked Witch of the West for a supervisor for five and a half of the last six years, I’d have had things pretty rootin’ tootin’ easy.

12.  Some of my comfort hobbies:

Coloring. Ha, still haven’t finished that snowflake. Just haven’t had the time. Vegan baking. Binge-watching documentary series about archeology or space. Latch-hook.

13.  Last time I was pleasantly surprised:

My midyear review at work. Seems my current supervisor thinks more highly of my work than I do.

14.   How was October 2024?

Busy but good. Celebrated my birthday with people, which is something I don’t usually do barring a brunch with one of my friends. This one was special, though, as I made it for a full year after my heart attack.

15.   Those who inspire my growth:

The Buddha, Dōgen, Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius.


My favorite backyard bird is the Northern Cardinal. The male’s bright red and the female’s red-tipped wings and tail lift my spirits, and I think their songs are the most beautiful of all songbirds. When I sent holiday cards they usually had Northern Cardinals on them, and I have a cute little holiday dish towel with a Northern Cardinal on it, part of a set that also has a red towel with Mourning Doves and a green towel with a Chickadee on it.

A dish towel featuring a Northern Cardinal bird on a pine branch with pine cones.

Yet oddly enough, I didn’t have any Christmas ornaments with a Northern Cardinal on it–until now. Presenting this year’s ornament:

A Christmas ornament featuring a Northern Cardinal bird and the year 2024.

The was the only one of its kind at Macy’s when I bought a bunch of ornaments, so I consider it fate. Most Northern Cardinal decor is red like the male, but I love the female’s coloring just as much, if not more. Look how pretty she is!

A female Northern Cardinal on a branch.
Image: Timothy Abraham.

Come to think of it, the image above might have to be my laptop wallpaper for January, even though DesktopNexus seems to have returned.

Before I go, have some Northern Cardinal song:

And now to put fresh sheets on the bed and wait for my clothes to dry. Envy the rich tapestry of my life, won’t you?