Silent Night...Blessed Night

Christmas Eve...

A Blanket Of Snow...

And Voices Raised...

In Solemn Song...

To Greet The Child...

The Newborn King...

All Love Him For...

 The Peace He Brings...

To Troubled Souls...

And Violent Lands...

With Blessed, Gentle,

Tiny Hands.

The Prophets Saw...

The Magi Came...

The Weak And Strong...

Bow And Proclaim...

He Is The Promised...

Hope Of Man...

And Destiny’s Sacrificial Lamb.

 Perhaps the greatest joy of Christmas is hearing and singing the beautiful music we call Christmas Carols.  For centuries, these sacred and secular songs have raised our spirits, and cast a magic spell. 

Some music scholars might attribute this feeling of good will to the sympathetic vibrations found in the harmonies of the bass and treble pitches.  I really don’t care why the music makes us feel good.  Let’s just enjoy the feeling and sing, sing, sing.

 Now, all this singing takes a lot of energy.  That’s why we feel we must have lots of goodies at Christmas time.  There is always some SCROOGE, however, who will warn us that we should never attempt to sing on a full-stomach.

 BAH...HUMBUG, I say.  Those big, booming voices need hearty nourishment and a variety of fine refreshments to reach all the notes.  How can you belt-out a song with nothing under your belt?

There is a traditional Italian Christmas Eve dish that some of you might find interesting.   I can assure you that I have known a few singers, with excellent voices, who have eaten this dish just prior to performing at midnight Mass on Christmas Eve.  Their voices did not suffer even one tiny bit.  Perhaps even Pavarotti or, my all time favorite tenor, the incomparable Mario Lanza have eaten this same dish before a brilliant performance. 

The basic sauce is most likely Neapolitan.  My mother-in-law made it every Christmas Eve.  I cannot recall her ever preparing this dish at any other time. 

Over the years, I have added a few more ingredients to her basic sauce.  The additional ingredients are marked with a star (*), so you can choose which way you want to prepare it.

Italian restaurants charge big bucks for this dish, but your homemade version will surpass theirs.

ANCHOVY ‘PASTA’ SAUCE

• 2 Cans ANCHOVY FILETS (packed in oil) or *ANCHOVY FILETS WITH CAPERS (packed in oil).  Do not drain oil
• 3 - 4 Cloves GARLIC (mashed).  If you would like to use fresh roasted garlic, I think it would be a delicious personal touch.)
• Approximately 1/3 cup OLIVE OIL.  Be sure to use a good quality olive oil.
• 2 Scoops (ladle) WATER from boiling Pasta pot just before you drain it. Careful. The water needs to be added gently.
• *PINCH BASIL (dried or equivalent if fresh)
• *PINCH HOT RED PEPPER FLAKES
• 1 - 1 1/2 lbs. PASTA.  Use thin SPAGHETTI or LINGUINE

Put OLIVE OIL in saucepan.  Add GARLIC CLOVES and sauté over medium heat for a sufficient time for the GARLIC CLOVES to release their flavor.  (This should not take more than a few minutes.)  Add the ANCHOVIES without draining the packing oil.  Stir.  The ANCHOVIES will break-up quickly and appear to almost melt.  Add BASIL and HOT RED PEPPER FLAKES.  Stir.  Carefully add the two scoops of the boiling WATER, which you will take from the pot of pasta just before draining.  You may remove the GARLIC CLOVES from the sauce, or leave them in.  I like to leave them in.   Put PASTA in an appropriate size serving bowl.  Pour-on the SAUCE and gently toss to distribute evenly.  NOTE:  This sauce cooks up very quickly, so you will make it while the pasta is cooking.

Holiday blessings to each and every one of you.  It is my pleasure to share the recipes that have appeared so far.  I look forward to doing more.

SNUGGIE

SNUGGIE:

Can you hear the snorting and laughter?

Can you picture the monkish lines and the soft draping of enormous sleeves?

Can you say “Snuggie” without just the slightest twitch of your lips and goofy flutter of facial tics?

Well, of course you can try to remain unaffected, but TV advertising has created the Snuggie stampede, and you damned well better get yours right away.

I honestly try to resist those carnival style shout fests that seem to be on every station, at any time.  It’s impossible.  And some of us actually become fans of the pitchmen/pitchwomen. 

We also tend to strive to catch the trickery used in demonstrating the products’ prowess.  How can such magic be so affordable and so versatile?  The Sham Wows and scratch fixers look like Merlin, himself, conjured up the impossible. 

“So you say you want more for your money?  Well, I’ll tell ya what I’m gonna do.”  That was the line early pitchmen used in the days of the old black & white TV programming.  That was also the gist of the live pitch that could be found on New Jersey’s seashore boardwalks. 

The pitches continue today.  Cable TV has ensured that the audience is vast and just as captive today as it has been at any time since the beginning of the watch-n-learn approach to marketing.  And the ‘something more’ still drives the ‘buy it now’ factor.

The temptation is so strong.  The urge to try the newest miracle is nearly impossible to ignore.  I have asked friends – even strangers – “Have you tried this?” and, “Is it any good?"

No one I’ve asked ever gave a positive response.  No one owned up to a TV ad purchase.  But a few bought at local stores that feature an “As Seen On TV” bargain aisle.

My husband fell for the window cleaning tool.  It didn’t quite measure up to the hype, but it cleaned okay, if you were willing to spend the time.

Now it’s time to admit to ownership of a Snuggie.  HEB (our local grocery giant) has them in every color.  HEB displays them where you can’t miss them.  HEB is so wise.  I bowed to the pressure and bought one.

My husband was with me and smiled all the way home.  He carried it into the house like it was a holy relic.  (Remember, it is sort of monkish looking.)  I wasn’t going to fall for his mocking play-acting.  I bought it and, by God, I was going to enjoy it when the chills ran rampant throughout the house. 

Then my husband displayed it to my son and the two of them howled.  Yes, they howled and I also can attest that I heard a snickering, cheeky clicking.  The final outrage came when my son barked like a Great Dane. 

Do I care?  NO, I do not care.  I prefer to believe that they are jealous and extremely insensitive.  After all, the chilly temperatures won’t hit San Antonio until mid-November. 

I’ll be stylish and cozy in my Snuggie, while I read by the light of the bonus clip-on lamp, included with my purchase.  They’ll be shivering in silence.  So there!      

I WROTE A POEM

I wrote a poem.

It did not rhyme.

IT DID NOT RHYME!

They said: “What kind of poem is that supposed to be?”

And the paper crinkled and flew into the garbage can.

They said: “Better sweep the porch and peel the potatoes.”

And so I did.

I swept and peeled, and I stuck my pencil into my pencil-box.

They spoke many times about what I was supposed to do,

And what I was supposed to become.

They even said I might be pretty some day. 

If only...

So life went on, and things happened.

And I held my thoughts.  And I spoke at proper times.

What did it matter?

You see, “...a rhyme is just a silly little ditty. 

And a ditty is just a brief excuse for not trying hard enough,”

They said.

A poem, a genuine poem, cannot rhyme. 

It must be deliciously deep, and a puzzlefactation of the panic, the pain,

And the ecstasy surrounding life’s struggles,

I suppose.

I SUPPOSE.

I think I’ll find a pencil with a big eraser.

I think I’ll write.

I think I’ll erase more than I’ll think.   

CYCLE SONG

Oh, the Morning glows,

And the Day grows.

And the Dusk does its dusty sweep.

See the Midnight,

With Celestial Light,

Guide a sky-finding sigh:

Awesome Dawn.

SINCERELY, THE GUTTERSNIPE

I would really love to be able to write about charming, humorous, ultra-intelligent people and situations each week. Unfortunately, my view of life tends to be a bit lowbrow, and I find that I fall more into the category of a distraught guttersnipe than an understanding, middle-class housewife.

I climb my personal wall of reality every day.  What I find on the other side frequently pisses me off.  Do I voice my feelings?  You bet your ass I do.

Consider THE UNKEMPT EATERY, ET AL:  

Let’s start with the condiments. If you are the first person to occupy the space, you may find clean bottles and shakers. That’s good. But usually you are just another contaminator among many contaminators, and your hands and lax habits do disgusting things to public usage items.

Take a look around. A disinterested slop swiper is likely wielding a rag in a half-hearted attempt to tidy a table and seats. Is that rag wet and soapy? Has it traveled from space to space without refreshing? Is there a similar rag being used to dry the smears? How are the condiments treated?

Think about it. Have your hands felt sticky stuff on the table/seating you’ve been assigned? Have you questioned the oversights? Do you really want to sprinkle or spread flavoring agents on your food when you shrink with disgust at the mere touch of, say, a greasy parmesan cheese shaker?

Remember, it is common for people to sit and touch and feel and eat and then leave. How clean were their hands at any point of their occupation of the space you are subsequently being encouraged to fill?

What about the fast-food eatery? How many times have you had to be the clean-up attendant? How many times have you muttered ‘pigs’ and really meant it?

Have you ever thought about the hairy pizza dough tosser and wondered how all that hair stays put? Are you grateful when disposable sleeves protect the dough tosser’s arms? Is it nice to see a beard guard used when appropriate?

Have you discovered a hair in your food or stuck in your pizza crust and brought it to the management’s attention? Is management genuinely concerned? A simple ‘Oh, sorry’ is not really sorry, nor is it adequate handling of a contamination issue – replacement or bill adjustment is.

Eating utensils and beverage containers frequently suffer from automatic dishwasher problems. Ask for clean items in good condition. If that pricey glass of wine has a dirty smear or smells scuzzy, then the glass is not truly clean. The same goes for other beverages, including a refreshing glass of water.

Restaurants should replace glassware that is dirty, etched, or chipped. Don’t buy the excuse that it’s just etching caused by the water or detergent. An etched glass is disgusting. And worn plastic ware is just as bad.

Have you tried a new item being promoted by a well-known chain operation only to be disappointed that it was a puny, false representation of the item pictured on coupons and signage? Have you complained? Have you pointed to the photos and compared actual serving? You should.

You don’t have to accept bad food, bad service, bad conditions, or bad attitude. You deserve fair value and fair treatment.

I’m going to stop now. There are many things on the other side of my personal wall of reality that can wait a while longer for their time in the blog-light. Enjoy your day.