I'm getting fat!

Latest installment in the cookie baking going on at my home.  Two more recipes today.

The ones on the left are Willow's delicious cranberry-walnut shortbread cookies.  I am not a fan of shortbread but SWMBO is so I passed Willow's recipe on to her.  She made them.  We BOTH love them.

The ones on the right are Lemon Pepper Cornmeal cookies.  They are also delicious, with a taste of lemon and an aftertaste of black pepper.  Amazing test sensations.

Take a closer look.

I know.  I know.  You're probably getting tired of all this.  But think about me!  My waistline is beginning to look like Mario Batali's!  Ooooohhhh, but they're so goooood!!!

Me and the Duke

I was reading an e-mail from a friend today and she mentioned something about John Wayne.  Whenever I hear his name, it takes me back to a day in the 1970's when I was a television news reporter in Phoenix, Arizona.  To make a long story very short, I wangled (you can look it up, it's in the fictionary) an interview with Wayne on the back patio of his home in Newport Beach, California.

I always said the caption on this picture should be "Isn't it about time for you to get the hell out of here, young fellah?"

Actually Wayne could not have been a nicer guy.  He had been in the hospital a short time before and he died not too long after this interview.  But on that day, he was fantastic.  He treated us well, took a great interest in my photographer's camera, took us inside to show us his huge projection cameras in his screening room, let us fondle his Oscar for True Grit, told us what he thought Richard Nixon should have done with the tapes, and shared a few "inside" stories about his co-stars.  He was a great guy and he even seemed sad to see us leave.  In a 30 year career in radio and television, I have always maintained this was the highlight.

The Duke.  I think we all miss him.

More cookies!!!

Yes, SWMBO has been imbued with the holiday spirit of late.  This dish should have been filled with these apricot/pecan pinwheels but I've been devouring them like a starving man. 

Yummy!

(If you double-click the photo you can almost taste them!)

Hoopin'

As gawd is my witness, I read about this video in the Sunday New York Times.  What to do when you're bored out of your mind.  (And you have a bodyguard close at hand.)  Enjoy!

The softening of Scrooge Catalyst

After my annual Christmas screed last night, I got one of the longest e-mails I've ever received from the BRD.  And it was one of the sweetest.  She remembered many happy things that happened to her on Christmases during her childhood.  One of her fondest stories was about the year she circled several items in "the Christmas catalog" that she'd like to get but did not mark the doll she really wanted because she knew it was too expensive.  Nevertheless, when the presents were opened on Christmas morning, there for her was the doll.  She was amazed and extremely grateful.  But, she said, she was so nervous about it's beauty that she never took it out of its box to play with.  She would look at it, occasionally straighten it's dress, but she kept it prim and pristine for over 20 years!  She finally gave it to her younger sister to give to her first daughter when she got old enough to appreciate it.  Now that's a Christmas story to melt any old Grinch's heart.

And to compound it, SWMBO and I were talking about it and she said the same exact thing happened to her when she was a girl.  Her mother later told her when it arrived in the mail she knew it was a mistake because there was no way they could afford it.  She had a serious moral dilemma that she fought over in her mind for days.  She resolved . . . and this is a woman who had a somewhat casual relationship with religious belief . . . by determining that the doll had come for her daughter by divine intervention.  Well!  What can I say?

What I had forgotten when I was garrumphing (you can look it up, it's in the fictionary) was all the Christmas goodies.  And today that started, with SWMBO's first Christmas cookies coming out of the oven.

Needless to say, they're delicious.

Man, I love the holidays!

Keepin' an eye on the road

I'm pretty well disguised . . . but I can see you!

Christmas Joy - - - or whatever

All right.  Here goes.  It's time for my annual Christmas message.

You see I have a variety of acquaintances.  One is a friend who SWMBO called the other day and asked if she was watching a particular program on television.  "No," she said.  "I was listening to Christmas music." 

She told us once that she just loved the Christmas season because the radio stations played Christmas music all the time.

SWMBO didn't tell her that she avoids Christmas music like the plague!

Then . . . while a nurse was attending me in my cardiologist's office today, I asked "Are you all ready for Christmas?"  (Gawd, how I do hate myself for asking everyone I see at this time of year that ridiculous question.)  The nurse . . . snickered.  No, it was more like . . . snorted.  So then I asked her if she was ready for Thanksgiving.  (Careful followers of daily events will note that Thanksgiving occurred a week ago.)  The nurse said something like "that's about it."  Then she said the words that endeared me to her.  "I just wish I could go to sleep and wake up on January 2nd!"

Now those, I think you'd agree, are the two poles about Christmas.  Quite obviously I fall into the second group.  But I still enjoy my friend from the first group and listen to her tales of Christmas sewing and cooking and baking and planning and shopping and decorating and parties and get-togethers.  She is, quite literally, Mrs. Claus! 

On the other hand, SWMBO and I try to ignore the season as much as possible.  We may attend one or two events.  Or we may not.  We very much enjoy the BRD's annual Christmas Eve steak and lobster dinner.  We may even accidentally watch one of those Christmas movies that tend to tickle the gag reflex.

But I've gone too far.  Let me just say that I could enjoy Christmas a bit more if . . . .

So, what do you think about Christmas?  Go ahead.  I can take a beating.