I had big plans yesterday, and managed to accomplish them all.  Brunch at Dante’s Kitchen was nice, even though Sun was tired and cranky.  The trip to LaPlace to get various cajun meats went without incident.  We even eked out plans for dinner and the tail end of the LSU/Ole Miss game at my cousin’s.

But it took it’s toll.  We were home by 7:30pm, and I was balled up under my hand-knitted blanket feeling awfully tired.  The hubs and I were in bed and asleep by 9:30.

Sounds nice enough, doesn’t?  And it was until 2am when I heard the hubs in the bathroom yakking.  My stomach was bothering me too, but not that bad.  He went to the sofa and began his long night of suffering.  An hour later, I joined him in the yakking.  It was miserable for all involved.  Thankfully, Sun slept til morning.

We called my cousin to see if others were sick.  They weren’t.  Just us.  Apparently we got that stomach bug going around.  Now I am not saying that we got it from Sun’s daycare, because it really doesn’t matter whether it’s a virus or food poisoning or where we got it.  It sucks all the same.

It’s now close to 3pm, and we are no longer spewing liquids from any orifices.  But we both have fever, headaches, and achy joints.  It’s going to be a long evening.

Prior to having Sun, I’d spend my Saturdays in a leisurely fashion. I’d sleep in, then maybe run some errands or clean up or meet with friends. My days were often spent with Captain Sarcastic. As evening approached, we’d get ready for whatever we had going on for Saturday night–usually involving food and friends again.

Now that I have Sun, and the hubs and I are adjusting our work schedules to keep her out of day care, my Saturdays have a different feel. First, CS works most Saturdays so I am without him. Second, sleep in? What’s that? I am up no later than 7am. Errands? Yeah, major pain in the arse with a baby in an infant carrier. So those tend to get cut out. If I need groceries or dry cleaning, I need to coordinate getting those items during the week when CS has Sun.

I spend a lot more time at home now on the weekends. And I like spending time home, but I am ready to start getting back into my old regime. Sun is getting to an age where she does okay out and about.

So today, here are my plans:

1. Brunch with my girlfriends. We are returning to Dante’s Kitchen. I am really looking forward to this.
2. Road trip with said girlfriends back to LaPlace to get more meat for the holidays. My brother in Houston, who we’ll be seeing next week, has requested hog’s head cheese. I’ll also get some for gifts for my grandfather and uncle. That qualifies as a handmade gift, don’t you think?
3. Return home to rest. Knit. Read newspaper. Straighten up around the house.
4. Attempt to make plans with other friends for dinner.

Sun will accompany me all day. Wish me well as I bite off maybe more than I can chew as I try to make my new Saturdays feel like my old ones.

Today was Turkey Day at the office. The firm provides the turkey, ham and stuffing, and the employees each bring a dish. I brought the same dish I’ve brought every year–my mother’s artichoke casserole. Her recipe is here; we always double the recipe when we make it–I recommend you do the same if you choose to make it. I cooked my dish last night. It consists of seven ingredients: olive oil, garlic, onion, green beans, bread crumbs, Parmesan cheese, and artichoke hearts. As the last ingredient was added and the aromas melded together, it was official: the holidays had arrived.

This dish has been made by my mother twice a year for as long as I can remember, once for Thanksgiving and once for Christmas. And when I smell it (and, oh my God, does it smell like Heaven), it means only one thing: it is holiday season.

And any doubt I had about the holidays arriving was quelled when we drove to eat sushi last night and saw the Christmas tree vendors unloading their stock and stringing their lights. Yes, it is undeniable. And I can’t recall being so excited about the holidays as I am this year. It’s Sun’s first holiday season, and they will only get better as she gets older.

So, I was using the shuffle function on my iPod again (I’d forgotten all about that lovely little function and was delighted to think of it).  But to my chagrin, the first song to play was the Macarena.  What the?  How is this on my iPod?  Turns out, it is from a one-hits wonders CD.  Thankfully, when I skipped ahead, I got The Police, The Traveling Wilburys, and some Rolling Stones.  So things worked out.

But now I wonder what other odd songs that I don’t like are lurking on my iPod ready to surprise me when next I shuffle.

Sometimes I am asked by a client to do something that simply can’t be done. Not that what they are asking for is illegal, rather that what they ask for is just unattainable.  This happened recently. And before I could catch myself, I heard myself say, “Sir, this is a pen in my hand, not a magic wand.” Yup, I said that. Aloud. To a client. Where was my filter??

I returned to Nor-Joe’s Saturday to buy items for an Italian dish I made later that night. Man, I love that store! I know I gush about it every time I go, but it truly makes my day to go there. This time, I splurged with olives stuffed with Gorgonzola cheese. They are always there and I could no longer resist. I am glad I gave in, as they were quite the treat.

Anyway, back at home, here’s the ingredients I used to go into my Arrabiata (olive oil, penne rigate, canned Italian tomatoes, garlic, crushed peppers, fresh basil, salt and pepper, pecorino romano, and pancetta):

And here’s the Arrabiata finished:

This is an easy dish to prepare and it is quite yummy. I gotta love a dish whose name translates to “angry pasta.” Makes me feel I have nowhere to go but up. I doubled the recipe since we were having company, but with the appetizers (including Langenstein’s better cheddar) and salad, I could have gotten away without doubling. Good news, we’ll be eating tasty leftovers for days! Really, it was a win-win situation.

This weekend, we ventured across the lake (Lake Pontchartrain, that is) to go to the Three Rivers Art Festival in Covington, Louisiana. Southern Mom and her two little ones joined us, as did the eponymous Pontchartrain Pete! Driving over was quite peaceful–SM’s kids watched a movie while Sun napped. As a sign of a long friendship to come, Sun and Amber held hands for the whole 40+ minute drive:

The festival did not disappoint. There were many artists and a nice area for the children to roll up their sleeves and show their artistic side. Most exciting to me, Trish Ransom was displaying at the festival. Her business is called debris, and her inspiration comes from found items–bottle tops, driftwood, nails, springs, roof tiles, leather straps from old watches. . . . She is truly finding treasures in what others would consider trash. Here’s a turtle I could not resist:

And here’s an armadillo we bought from her pre-Katrina:

What’s especially nice about this piece is that the top, right nail swings open. So you need to be sure to keep the “gate” closed lest the little fella gets away!

My only angst about the day is that I bought for myself only and did not find anything that grabbed me for the folks still on my Christmas list. And this was the perfect place to find handmade gifts. Guess I’ll be at the next art market scheduled soon in the NOLA area.

We had friends over for dinner last night. We hadn’t seem them in a while, and apparently one of our friends has “found love” or is at least dating. We wish him well. Oh, the dating game. How well I remember it.

Another of our friends mentioned that he applied to e-harmony and <gasp> was rejected. After he filled out all of their questionnaires, e-harmony wrote to him and regretted to tell him that unfortunately one in six people can’t be helped by them and he was that one. As he tells it, one in six can’t be loved.

I am fortunate that I found CS before having to consider online dating, before having to consider being in my late 30s and dating. And I thank God for that, because I HATED dating even in my teens and twenties. And to have e-harmony tell me that they can’t help me, well, I agree with my pal who says of the experience, it’s a good thing he wasn’t suicidal.

Which leads me to wonder what exactly are e-harmony’s criteria in accepting (or not) someone to their social world. My friend (1) is stable, (2) lives on his own, (3) has a good job that he’s held for some time, (4) comes from a stable family, (5) has no children or pesky ex-wives, (6) doesn’t weigh 300 pounds (or even 200!), (7) drives a nice car, (8) is kind and considerate, (9) likes animals and babies (at least mine, anyway) and (10) is sociable and has nice manners.  In sum, he is an all-around nice guy.

Maybe it is true that nice guys finish last. I like to think that it just means that e-harmony is a crock and dating is as much a pain in the ass as its always been.

Captain Sarcastic grinds his teeth in his sleep. A lot. His teeth have been ground down as a result. He wears a splint to help the situation. Soon after Sun was born, CS threw his splint into the microwave bag we used to sterilize the breast pump parts. He thought he’d give it a good steaming. He melted it. So he recently replaced it with a new one. The new one is hard plastic that snaps onto his top teeth. It makes him talk with a lisp.

Soooo, the other night he popped his splint in as we got into bed and began to read. I was reading about the Dust Bowl of the 1930s, he was reading comics. He turned to me and said something along the lines of, “How you doin’?” But it came out all spitty and slippery. I responded, “You are such a nerd.” And he corrected me, “No, I am a geek. Thas a dithwence.”

Yes, my husband prides himself on being a geek and on differentiating between a geek and a nerd. Differentiating, mind you, while lisping away as a result of his mouth splint. Picture Anthony Michael Hall with his headgear back in the 80s. That’s what I go to bed to every night.

He got lucky that night. I find his ability to make me laugh quite appealing. So what does that make me, a geek or a nerd?

This past Mardi Gras, the better parades started to throw glass beads again like they did in the olden days. These throws are hard to come by. They are usually packed in little baggies and not identifiable in the hands of the thrower for what they are. I was lucky enough to walk away with two pairs–one I caught at Krewe d’Etat (my favorite parade!) and the other caught by my cousin at Endymion and given to me.

Both are really nice. So nice, in fact, that I wear them regularly. Out in public. Sober. I wore one yesterday to work. Here they are:

Colorful and delicate. I can’t wait for Mardi Gras to come around again. Let’s hope I add more of these to my budding collection.