Random random random*

*because the lack of a catchy title was holding up progress

We broke out of the deep freeze yesterday!

I have already indicated my concern over the word choice in the #recycleyourperiodpad extravaganza, but this ad campaign does not impress me much more.

Thanks to the Monkey in the Field for this gem

Don't get me wrong, I realize that my teenage son may be amused by the notion of dropping his pants for "underwareness", but I am pretty sure he is not the target audience. I also sort of appreciate the attempt at humor, but let's face it, is anybody really finding a loss of their bladder control amusing?

Let's ask this little guy...

I passed this little elf on a shelf at my great aunt's house earlier today. I found myself offended on his behalf by what the Elf on a Shelf empire has become. I suppose you could say he is a tiny bit creepy….NO…WAIT….that word is reserved for………..

MONKEYS!!!!!! 

Creepy baby monkeys! Finally, FINALLY, a moderately priced creepy monkey that is also a toy!!! No more of that "this is a fine collectible" b.s. I am going to leave it up to you to decide if the question is a) Did she buy it? or b) How many did she buy?

Today is the day that The Unraveling of Mercy Louis is being released! Let's make today the final day to enter the drawing to win a copy.

Artichokes are Important

Mangia Monday*, friends! 

*I considered making this a series, but that seems like it could be a lot of pressure to commit to doing something here on the blog on a given day each week. (Wink, wink...I'm looking at you Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays.)

I have many memories of the dining room table at my grandparents' house. In fact, that is where so much of what I remember of my father's parents took place. We were either filling our plates, taking in nourishment from the food and lively conversation, or my cousin and I were lurking around the table hoping to be invited into a round of the card game they called "May I".

Food had this tendency to just magically appear. I don't have much recollection of anyone being tied up in the kitchen, but obviously the musings of my child self could have been distracting. I do remember my grandfather frying up squash flowers, from his garden, with scrambled eggs. The fascination had far more to do with the bright orange color swirling in with those yellow eggs than it did with any interest in sampling the final product. I would try that dish now though. What I wouldn't give to try that now. How about some of those spinach and egg things I never let touch my plate? I bet those were delicious too. Such missed opportunities. This is not to say that I went hungry...ever. The bottomless serving dish of fried chicken cutlets was one of my favorites. Another highlight? The breaded artichokes.

I could never be sure if the artichoke itself contributed anything to the tastiness, or if the leaves just served as a vehicle to transport seasoned breadcrumbs to my face. Pick off a leaf, flip it over and use your teeth to scrape what was delicious into your mouth. Not necessarily fun to watch as an innocent bystander, I am sure, but we all participated and sat with piles of discarded leaves on our plates...happy. Happier still was whoever got to eat my leftover artichoke heart. I'd work my way down to the choke, dabble for a bit with that funny protective looking bristly layer, and then looked for takers.

Between my aunts and my father, there was no risk of a heart being wasted. Fond and delicious memories.

Despite my grandmother's long illness, leading up to her passing when I was thirteen, my memories of her rarely involve her hospital bed or oxygen tanks. In my mind she is smiling, laughing and vibrant. There is food and there is love.

Not too long ago, ok actually it was over a year ago, I was talking to my aunt about artichokes. Despite having developed an appreciation for artichoke hearts, in convenient canned form, I realized that I had not had a breaded artichoke in over thirty years. How could it have been so long, but still seem so familiar? I did not realize the recipe had lived on. My father did present me with a sad, but healthy steamed version on one occasion, but there were no crumbs! Little did I know that my aunts were still serving them up Grandma-style, and little had they know how much I missed them.

My aunt started to give me her "recipe". I have mentioned before that I am not really a very good cook, I just happen to be able to follow directions - very specific directions. I was already feeling tense at the thought of picking out a decent fresh artichoke to begin with. "Flatten out the leaves some, but not too much"...uh-oh,  more room for error. This was followed by more measurements that were not precise enough for me to muster up any confidence. I always thought the artichokes came out of the oven, so simmering them on the stove for over an hour was not fitting my vision. My aunt looked at me reassuringly, but she could tell I had my doubts.

I did purchase four fresh artichokes. They looked so foreign sitting there in my vegetable drawer. Hope faded, like their leaves, and I threw them away a few weeks later. I was a bit sad and disappointed, but nobody else here in the house minded, as they had no idea what they were missing.

Months went by and I had put those breaded artichokes back into the fond memories part of my brain. Unbeknownst to me, there were other logistics being worked out between my aunts as I was focused merely on packing the car for our holiday trip downstate. At some point during our visit, my Aunt Bea arrived at my parents' house with a large pot containing her take on my grandmother's artichokes. Oh my goodness! It was difficult to contain my excitement as the memories came flooding back. I was grateful for the love that planned and executed the surprise, and of course the anticipation of devouring this treat.

Obviously I shared my gift, because I am super friendly like that, and because I realized to fully enjoy this dish meant I needed company. Plates piled with discarded leaves, lively conversation and laughter. One month later, we happened to be visiting again, the day after my brother won breaded artichoke fixings that my Aunt Fran had put in the Christmas gift swap. She actually ended up making the artichokes for my brother, and he had enough to share. I could not believe my luck. Piles of discarded leaves, lively conversation and laughter.

My children walked by, unimpressed, but I did not pressure them to try, as they can have their own fond food memories. I savored each bite, and while I now know that I can revisit that flavor from when I was a kid at the big table, I also respect the fact that sitting in my own kitchen eating an artichoke by myself is not going to completely satisfy me. Artichokes are important, and a group activity.

Aunt Fran and Aunt Bea - Thank you again for warming my belly with food that filled my heart with memories.

Superhero Sunday - On hold

I had some super upcycling (despite the campaign calling it #recycleyourperiodpad, I just can't) plans for this Sunday, but then this happened…

 …and this...

 …and now a little bit of this...

…oh, and something going on here in the window too...

I can only be so super with one less hour in the day to do so, the towels can only soak up so much, plus they keep landing on the floor, sooooo...

…perfect!

3, 2, 1…waiting for teen daughter to see where I was headed, since she said she decided not to ask.
Aaaaaaaand..."Mum, what did you do?" (Feel free to inquire as to other cool tips for ways to impress your teenagers.)

Week 37 - Are we getting even*

*Let's pretend that rhymes

Now seems like a good time to update you all on how twitter played into the contest. We didn't necessarily set out rules ahead of time for how we were going to handle twitter feedback, but since I don't see Marianne around, I think I will set forth an addendum now. I hereby declare that these point values will be assigned:

• 1/2 point for the company favoriting the tweet regarding the post
• 1/2 point for a tweeted response from a company that had already sent a letter
• 1 point for an actual tweeted message from a previously unresponsive company

Here is what that means for my desperate plea updated point total:

• 1/2 point for Juicy Juice tweeting me since they had sent a letter and coupons
• 1 point for Gamewright, who tweeted that they never got the letter. There was much conversation back and forth, as well as them posting my poem on their facebook page after I resent the letter.
• 1/2 point for Old El Paso for tweeting since they had also sent a letter and coupons
• 1 point for Stew Leonard's who tweeted and apologized
• for not getting letter and responding
• 1 point for the letter Stew Leonard Junior personally wrote and sent to me

Funseekers are still planning their next outing

• 1 point for Swiffer, who tweeted some love
• 1/2 point for Byrne Dairy favoriting  my tweet

Let's see where that brings us! 

I was at 67 points + 5 1/2 points = 72 1/2 points (that half could be critical, you just never know)

Repetitive random

So you wanna talk about the weather some more? No? Me neither honestly, but it is becoming sort of inevitable. Plus, we broke a record here in Central New York for the month of February, and the news folks are trying to trick us into believing this is cause for celebration. The temperature was not above freezing a single time in those twenty-eight days, and it snowed on twenty-five of them (for a total of five feet). Basically the weather is just making a lot of us sad and SAD. It is so difficult to remind oneself how much better she will feel if she just goes outside for a walk or something (besides shoveling that is) when the thought of putting on all of that cold weather gear is so daunting…and heavy! But alas…

My mother and I don't always wear clashing clothes

 …forty minutes of making our own cross-country ski trails and now I can justify sitting on the couch the rest of the afternoon!

Fozzie would like us to talk more about him and this hellish frozen life he has been doomed to…a world where he doesn't even get to go outside with his friends.

(And apparently nobody gets him groomed, claiming the fact that he is growing mittens is a good thing.)

We could talk some more about the #recycleyourperiodpad program? Wait, let's not. OK, but did you go on twitter to check it out for curiosity's sake? No? Just me?

Did you read yesterday's book review post and comment for the chance to win a copy?

Well, this is the point in the day when I realize that despite the fact that I fed my family dinner yesterday, they are going to want to eat dinner again today. It's my own personal Groundhog's Day; sometimes I learn from it and prepare, other times not so much.

Last week I tried writing a new post that I realized had been wandering around in my brain for over a year. When I had trouble with that process, (I blame the weather, as I was unable to get that fifteen minute walk outside that is supposed to foster creativity) I wrote a list of posts I'd like to write. I was not impressed with myself, at all, after that exercise.

Uh-oh, I just caught myself zoning out and may be on the brink of procrastinating. I think I'll move to the couch to ponder what to do about that…..

Let the Blog Tour Begin!

It was a simple email, from a friend of a friend, asking if I had any interest in reading her sister’s soon to be published book and participating in a blog tour promotion. I could not respond fast enough. Of course I wanted to read something new! Plus, this was like a brush with celebrity of sorts for a bibliophile like me. This was like getting asked to sit with the cool kids at lunch in middle school, only much cooler.

Here it is...The Unraveling of Mercy Louis, by Keija Parssinen.

I had never really done anything like this before, and my enthusiasm was quickly threatened by panic. “What if I read it and don’t know what to say?” I semi-patiently awaited my copy. The day the package arrived, I was giddy ripping it open. The night I read the prologue, I realized that any concerns I had about not knowing what to say, were not warranted as I was immediately a fan. The only reason I put the book on my night stand at 10:30 p.m. was that I knew, after meeting the teenager Mercy Louis, that I was not going to sleep much at all if I read any further. I would have been swallowed whole into the early hours of morning by the pages. Suffice to say, I devoured the book over the course of that weekend. I cannot remember the last time I devoted an entire day to reading. The story just felt so important, and I had become so vested in the characters that I had to know their fates.

The words are perfectly chosen to put you in the scene - to feel the heat of the summer in Texas and the desperation brought with it. The town seems to be unraveling over a local news story, girls are unraveling both within themselves and their relationships, and the truth starts to unravel as well bringing some people closer together and some further apart. Mercy is dreading summer because it will take her away from her passion - basketball. The reasons for Mercy needing an escape are spelled out very clearly, and despite the uniqueness of her character and situation, she is still so easy to relate to from our own teen memories of angst on one level or another. I was cheering so fiercely for her! She tries so hard to keep herself together to be strong for others, to absorb their shocks. Lines like this, speaking about one of her friends, just grabbed me: “I vacuum up her words from where they hang unclaimed in the air; I perch them in the shadowed space where I keep her other confessions, a line of grackles on a bare branch by my heart.”

As Mercy and her friends struggle to find some sort of ordinary in their lives, there are lighthearted moments that offer rays of hope. The dialogue in these passages made the characters even more real and likeable. One of my favorites was a line one of Mercy’s friends states after she meets his mother: “I’m glad you got to meet her, even if it means I can now hold what remains of my dignity in a commemorative shot glass.”

This book brought me into a world I was not necessarily familiar with, especially as far as Mercy’s evangelical grandmother was concerned, but so much of the story was easy to relate to just the same. I was thrilled to be along on the journey. I don’t want to give anything away, so I am going to stop here, and hope you will check this one out for yourselves when it is released on March 10th. 

Wait! I do want to give something away...how about a copy of this book - The Unraveling of Mercy Louis! Just leave a comment telling me what book you are currently reading and I will enter you in my very technologically advanced drawing! (meaning I am either going to empty the candy dish or have the dog sniff out the winner).

In the meantime, you can check out Keija Parssinen’s first novel, The Ruins of Us.

Tomorrow, the Unraveling Mercy Louis Blog Tour stops in at Good Girl Gone Redneck and Nicole Leigh Shaw.

I received an advance copy of this book so that I could read it in order to offer an honest review. This review is truly my unbiased opinion.

Superhero Sunday - Sidekick candidate?

I spotted this picture of my cousin's son getting ready to fly.

I am now rethinking my need for goggles and a helmet! This guy totally has sidekick potential. My only concern is that his flashy monogrammed cape, complete with lightning bolt, may have him thinking that I should be his lowly sidekick. Stay awesome, Mercier…you are Super Mercier!