Holiday Project #1

With the holiday season officially beginning this week, I'm working on a few hostess gifts. Wine and flowers, although lovely and always appreciated, sometimes feel too much like a last-minute purchase at the grocery store en route to the party. This year I'm assembling Christmas cookie gift baskets: glass snowman jar filled with the dry ingredients for gingerbread cookies, a gingerbread man cookie cutter, holiday oven mitt, and a Gooseberry Patch Christmas cookie cookbook. The Wrangler willingly accompanied me to a craft boutique, Target, Pier 1, TJ Maxx, and Whole Foods as I collected the supplies. Each gift basket costs less than a halfway decent bottle of wine but will be way more fun to give. Of course, the jury still is out on whether they also will be "way more fun" to receive. (I know a lot of people who would prefer the wine!) 

Fabric holiday bag (the "basket") = $3.99

Large glass snowman jar with lid = $3.00 (on sale at Pier 1--a great deal)

Organic dry ingredients = about $1.50

Cookie cutter = $1.00

Oven mitt = $1.99

Cookbook = $3.99 (these are super cute, and I found them at TJ Maxx marked down from $16)

Grand total = about $16 per gift basket

Goat School

The November/December issue of Hobby Farms was waiting in the mailbox when I got home from work tonight. I was very, very excited to read in "Back to Goat School" on page 58 that, for only $100 per person or $150 per couple, Janice and Ken Spaulding offer a weekend of lectures, demonstrations, and hands-on activities relating to goat care and goat management. The price also includes one breakfast, two lunches, and a copy of Janice's book, Goat School. The next session is in May 2010.

See you at Goat School!

Waiting Is the Hardest Part

The Rainy Day Ranch will soon welcome its newest canine family member. The details still are bit murky, but it's looking like my Advent calendar will count down not only the days until Christmas but also the days until the puppy's arrival. It's been hard to focus on anything else--I've got puppy fever like some women get baby fever. I notice puppies wherever I go. I look at my dogs' baby pictures. I'm re-reading all my puppy care and training books and brushing up on the latest puppy parenting techniques. I've gotten the puppy carrier, bowls, leashes, and--ahem--clothing (sorry) out of storage. The Wrangler called our vet to discuss traveling with the new puppy. I've scoped out the best puppy kindergarten class in the area. 

I'm counting the days.

O Christmas Tree

So I poked around a little today and, somewhat surprisingly, found lots of information on starting a Christmas tree farm. For example, North Carolina State University put together an especially detailed booklet that includes Christmas tree fertility, pest management, shaping, and harvesting information, as well as marketing, record keeping, and tax tips.

Depending on the region, Christmas trees take about 8-10 years to grow. In high altitude places like Colorado, add another 5 or 6 years. Ten years--wow. What are the odds that I'll still be interested in Christmas tree farming in 10 years?

Mail Order Tree

Surely creating one heck of a carbon footprint on at least some level, I just ordered my Christmas tree for delivery by mail. I figure that I mitigated some of the environmental damage by ordering from a west coast tree farm in Oregon, as opposed to New England or North Carolina, even though this means forfeiting a Fraser Fir. I settled for the next best thing: a gigantic Noble Fir. Never mind that shipping costs twice as much as the tree itself. (I can't afford not to start my own Christmas tree farm on the ranch! Good argument to present to the Wrangler, right?) I couldn't help it. After two years of brittle trees from the lot down the street, I'm determined to do whatever it takes to have the most spectacular, breathtaking, show-stopping Christmas tree ever, one that is both aromatic and enduring. I'm envisioning a festive tree trimming party. I'm picturing slightly smug Rockwellesque evenings in front of the tree. I'm hearing the ohhs and ahhs of passerbys peeking in the window.

Alas, pride goes before a fall. In my excitement, I accidentally purchased the wrong tree--a smallish Grand Fir. Eghh. Well, if that is my greatest disappointment of the day, it really is not a bad day at all.

A Formal Affair

The Six-Button Cowgirls reunited this weekend in San Diego for...a birthday party for a dog. The Denver cowgirl flew in from Colorado for the lavish event, and a number of thirty-something urban cowgirls drove in from areas up-and-down the California coast.

The San Diego cowgirl spared no expense in celebrating the coming-of-age of her terrier-mix, Harper. The professional (if a bit skeevy) DJs were better than those at any wedding I've ever attended; the catered meal was top-notch; and the canine guests got along, with the exception of a grumpy Chihuahua and an overzealous greyhound-mix who were subject to periodic time-outs. A good time was had by all.

Knit-picking

It's the time of year that I take up knitting again. I'm not sure why, but knitting is not a year-round activity for me. It's probably for the best that I don't have several old-lady projects going on at once. I like to cook, sew, knit, decorate cakes, and collect pieces for my ceramic Christmas village--which, on paper, pretty much makes me either a 1950s housewife or a grandma. Maybe even a great-grandma. But I figure that since I don't iron or clean, I'm not a true 1950s housewife. And since I listen to mostly hip-hop and rap music on my ipod while I knit, maybe I'm not that grandmotherly just yet. That's what I keep telling myself.

Lone Star Starr

Just back from my first trip to Houston. I've been to Dallas, Austin, and San Antonio, but I'd never been to Houston, the self-proclaimed Energy Capitol of the World. I was both impressed and a little disappointed. Clearly, I'd seen Urban Cowboy one too many times. I must confess that I expected to see lots of real cowboys, fancy cowgirls, and rich oil moguls with cigars and white suits making deals in the shadow of an oil rig. Instead, I found myself in a livable but ordinary city with friendly but ordinary people. I may have overheard a few rich oil moguls making deals in the lobby at the Four Seasons, but they most definitely were not wearing white suits. 

Feeling a bit dejected, I met an old friend for brunch in the trendy area along Washington Avenue. My spirits lifted as I tucked into my carne asada y huevos. After brunch, we walked across the street to the Wabash Antiques and Feed Store. Now this was more like it! Perhaps the New York Times describes it best: "The eclectic 100-year-old business is straight out of 'Petticoat Junction.' Antique Texas stars, boot-shaped planters and imported pottery share a roof with caged chickens and rabbits, beekeeping supplies, plants and beer (to loosen up the customers)." Don't you just love a city in which you can, in one swoop, have brunch at a hotspot and pick up a few pullets for your urban coop?

Cowgirl Creamery

I was at a football party watching the Vikings beat the Packers on Sunday, and one of the other guests had on a red Cowgirl Creamery t-shirt. I used to work in the building across the street from the Cowgirl Creamery in D.C. It wasn't unusual to stroll in from lunch with a fresh baguette in one hand and a wedge of artisan cheese in the other. The Cowgirl Creamery started in an old barn in a coastal town north of San Francisco. The two women founders bought organic milk from the neighboring Straus Family Creamery and started with a small collection of fresh and aged cheeses. Today they produce about 3,000 pounds per week and have three retail stores--the one in D.C. and two in northern California. The Creamery hosts wonderful guided tours, cheesemaking demonstrations, and tastings.

Of course, the dude wearing the Cowgirl Creamery t-shirt on Sunday did not know any of this. He told me that he needed a red t-shirt and found this one at a thrift shop.