Public Shaming

Last month I blogged about our less than impressive solar Christmas lights. Indeed, only one strand had any life at all, and barely perceptible at that. Well, the Wrangler hasn't gotten around to taking down the lights yet, and guess what. Yep, the lights decided to become beacons shining brightly into the night--a radiant testament to our laziness.

December Recap

My posts were rather sparse this past month. Thankfully, despite the busy month at work, visiting family members kept the mood festive.

Some bad news: Moto will be out of commission for at least six months. His bowed tendon doesn't seem to be noticeably visible or causing him any general discomfort. His current rehab schedule allows him only one five-minute hand walk per day, which means that he's confined to his 12x12 box stall for 23 hours and 55 minutes a day! Poor Moto! It is very troubling, but at least his prognosis is excellent and he's expected to fully heal.

With Moto out of commission, I've been lucky enough to get my horse fix at a nice local horse barn that is hosting the two rescue Thoroughbred yearlings, Winston and Stewie. It's just down the street, and the owner kindly allows me to come by a couple times a week to spend time with the boys. I'm getting pretty attached to Stewie, a gentle, mild-mannered fellow who stands quietly, almost sleeping, while I brush him. If I knew even a thing or two about training young horses, I would adopt him in a minute. But it will be a few years before he'll be old enough to carry a rider on his back--he has a lot of training ahead of him, and he needs an experienced horse owner. Winston is a good boy, but he's still a little skittish. He puts up a small fuss when I approach him with his halter, and he tries to nip me while I'm grooming him. While some gals like the challenge, I've never been attracted to bad boys. I end up spending most of my time with good ole steady Stewie.

The barn is a pleasant place, especially with its family of five pygmy goats. (That's a few of them in the picture above. Rusty, the little reddish guy, is my favorite.) Although I am a sheep person, pygmy goats are irresistible. I'm sure that the Wrangler would love to have some of his own...which is why I bought him two for Christmas! They'll be born in late January and ready to come home seven weeks after their birth. We stopped in on Christmas Day to meet the goat breeder and to see the expectant parents. They live just a few minutes away, so we'll get to see the babies almost immediately after they're born.

Yesterday, the Wrangler and I met with the owners of a local wholesale nursery to discuss an initial order of approximately 7400 lavender plugs. This will be a small order for them--they recently grew 600,000 lavender plugs for a large retailer. The nursery owners (who are the parents of my riding instructor) patiently shared with us a wealth of information on lavender varieties that do well in this climate, as well as watering and planting considerations unique to this area. I've read literally every single book available on growing lavender, but these books focus on growing lavender in other regions--Provence, the Pacific Northwest, Australia, South Africa. There is no substitute for speaking with someone who grows it just a few miles away.

Tonight we will see some friends from Laguna Beach and help prepare and serve the New Year's Eve dinner to the residents of the Friendship House. We're looking forward to catching up with the Laguna crew and, as always, picking up some new cooking tips from our master chef John.

Have a fun and safe New Year's Eve.

Let There Be Light...Seriously

For three times the cost of standard Christmas lights, I decided to be a Friend of the Environment and purchased solar-powered outdoor Christmas lights. (This, despite the likely environmental damage associated with FedEx-ing in a Fraser Fir from Michigan. But if you know me even a little, then you know my stance on having a decent Christmas tree.) The Wrangler balked at the cost of said solar lights, but I remained resolute. I'm trying to get off the grid whenever doing so seems reasonable. (For example, composting toilet = unreasonable.) I enticed him by noting that he wouldn't have to mess around with extension cords.

He dutifully wrapped several strands around each lamppost along our driveway. I couldn't wait for darkness to fall. Three...two..one...I ran outside to view the spectacular light show.

Oh.

"I guess we should have gone with the regular lights," I admitted, crestfallen and coveting thy neighbors' blinding LED display. It's no exaggeration to say that it's hard to tell whether our lights are even on. I was especially irritated that we'd paid so much more for so much less.

Ever the optimist, the Wrangler wasn't daunted. "Well, if the power goes out, our lights will be the brightest in the neighborhood."

Giving Thanks

As we all pause today to give thanks for our blessings, I can't help but feel especially thankful for the Wrangler. Fellow feminists, don't hate me for saying that marrying a genuinely nice guy is the smartest thing I've done. Don't worry--I can stand on my own two feet. But it's kinda nice knowing that I don't always have to.

No Scrooges Allowed

It's no secret around here that I love Christmas an abnormal amount. I once founded a Christmas Club for ladies who love Christmas, but no one else wanted to meet in the "off season" of January through October. I've been known to unabashedly set up the Christmas village as early as October 1st, and I bake Christmas cookies well into February. And, yes, I've been lobbying for an 18-foot artificial Christmas tree this year.

So what if an 18-foot artificial tree is impractical, cumbersome, and a decorating nightmare? None of these arguments take into account the hours, days, weeks, and even years of sheer Christmas bliss that such a tree surely would bring. I'd curl up in front of the massive tree and doze off on a cozy Sunday afternoon. I'd watch the thousands of white lights twinkle as twilight set in on a chilly December evening. I'd stack festively wrapped packages with enormous bows under the lowest branches. In the spirit of frugality, I'd even forego any Christmas presents for myself. ("Nothing's stopping you from doing any of these things with a 10-foot tree," the Wrangler has noted wryly.) I'm not being profligate; I'd use the tree for years to come. It would be, as they say, an investment piece.

I usually can get the Wrangler on board with some of my more whimsical ideas. Once in a while, though, I can tell that he isn't going to budge. That's when a modern cowgirl has to take matters into her own hands. I figure there's about a 50/50 chance that, should the 18 feet of Christmas glory just happen to show up on our doorstep (a Christmas miracle!), the Wrangler--much like Ebenezer or, say, the Grinch--will see the errors of his ways. Far from grumbling over the logistics of assembling and decorating an 18-foot tree, he'll take a vacation day to string the lights. ("I'm sooo glad you went ahead and got this magical, majestic tree of cheer, tra la," he'll murmur appreciatively.)

But just in case...I suppose I better read that return policy.

A Rocky Mountain Christmas

We're home after our fourth consecutive Christmas in Denver. It wasn't a white Christmas this year, but the pets, nieces, and nephews provided plenty of holiday cheer. We timed our road trip perfectly. We had impeccable driving conditions, but a massive snow storm closed the major interstate roads on our route just one day after we arrived home.

While in the Denver area, we toured the Celestial Seasonings tea factory in beautiful Boulder. The tour, which includes a stop in the infamous peppermint room that makes your eyes water, is an olfactory (pun intended) treat for all, but it was especially interesting to me since I've replaced soda with tea as my beverage of choice. I stocked up on holiday teas--peppermint, gingerbread, chai, and even sugar cookie-flavored tea.

We also headed downtown to the aquarium, which has an impressive collection of species--sea horses, sharks, jellies, and even a tiger. I lobbied to conclude the visit with lunch in the aquarium restaurant but was shot down. Seems that the others felt weird about feasting on a platter of calamari just steps away from the giant octopus tank.

We took a little driving tour of some equestrian communities mixed in with cookie-cutter suburban subdivisions. I loved the tidy ranch homes with horses, goats, and chickens grazing peacefully in the yards, Pike's Peak looming in the distance, and a comforting Target, Borders Books, and stadium seating multiplex just five minutes away. (Because who am I kidding? I love suburbia just as much as I hate it.)

Upon our return home, I was thrilled to find that our gorgeous Noble Fir still is very much alive and kicking. There are no signs of dry needles, and the tree is drinking 1/2 a pitcher of water a day. At this rate, the tree may be around for Valentine's Day. I can't send a thriving tree off to the wood chipper.

Holiday Tee Time

Overlooking the golf course from the tea room at Pelican Hill

The Laguna Beach area has several very posh resorts, and all of them offer a number of festive and reasonably priced, if not free, events for us local, not-so-posh peons. Last weekend we stopped in for the tree lighting ceremony at the Ritz Carlton, and my mom and I went to Holiday Tea at the Pelican Hill resort. The St. Regis Monarch Beach resort and the Montage resort also hosted tree lighting ceremonies and wine tastings. As we swayed to Beach Boy cover bands (nary a holiday carol to be heard at the Ritz), sipped hot cocoa, and pretended to be cold, I tried not to compare the highly orchestrated tree lighting ceremonies at these blandly elegant resorts to those in cities with souls, like Chicago and Boston. Similarly, it felt a little odd to be reveling in a full holiday tea service while overlooking a very green golf course. It's my seventh December in warm climate, but I haven't stopped dreaming of a white Christmas.

I'm not a complete Grinch, though. I give the resorts credit for trying, and I have to admit that the views, while not Christmas-y, are breathtaking. And it's 13 degrees back in my hometown as I write this. Brrr! I like cold weather but I'm not crazy. Maybe a white Christmas is overrated?

Blechh Friday

Ah, Black Friday. The day on which greediness, materialism, and bad manners are rewarded. Women lace up their running shoes in preparation of mowing down anything standing in the way of a $15 savings, men forego Thanksgiving with their families to camp out in front of Best Buy--a friend really did see people lined up in front of Best Buy on the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving--and sales personnel are forced to report to work before their turkey dinner is digested. I self-righteously declared a Black Friday Black-Out this year, vowing to spend not one cent on this disgusting excuse for a holiday tradition.

The day dawned innocently enough. I had no plans for shopping, but we did have a tree to decorate. But after "thoroughly" searching the attic for the Christmas lights, the Wrangler reported that we must have thrown them away last year. (The fact that it didn't seem odd or out of character for us to inexplicably throw away perfectly good Christmas lights is, in itself, evidence that we are in no position to judge Black Friday shoppers.) I felt no compunction heading over to CVS for lights. CVS is not Target, I reasoned, unreasonably. I further assured myself that it is not 4AM, I'm not looking to score a mad deal on lights, I do not plan on shoving old ladies out of my way, and I will not fight anyone for a parking spot. I am not a crazy Black Friday shopper. I am a calm, rational consumer with a legitimate reason for buying something.

I found some cool snowflake tree lights and bought the last two boxes. Upon our return home, we were dismayed to find that we had purchased enough lights for exactly one spin 'round the tree. To make a long story short, three trips to two different CVS stores and NINE boxes of lights later, we had enough of those blasted snowflake tree lights to barely cover the Christmas tree. We mustered half-hearted applause during our tree lighting. I guess multiple trips to the store to drop $100+ on lights will usurp some of your yuletide anticipation.

Later that day, I climbed up into the attic to put away the turkey roaster. And what was the very first thing I saw at the top of the steps? A large box clearly marked "Christmas Tree Lights." I simply do not know how the box escaped the Wrangler's purview. This is the dude who spotted a $20 bill in a pile of leaves, people. From a moving car.

Even more disconcerting: somewhere out there, Black Friday shoppers are wrapping their $39 ipads and $79 flat-screen TVs. Yeah, I sure showed them!

Thanksgiving Eve

Tonight I baked two loaves of bread (one for the stuffing, one for the table), roasted and pureed four sugar pumpkins for pie, and made a 1/2 gallon of homemade vanilla ice cream. The theme this year is Thanksgiving on the Farm. For the first time, I won't be opening cans of green beans, cream of mushroom soup, and fried onions for the green been casserole. Nope, I'll be using fresh organic green beans, mushrooms, chicken stock, and my own caramelized onions. I'm roasting and creaming corn for the scalloped corn casserole. I'm making the stuffing from scratch, right down to the fresh sage, thyme, and rosemary from the spice garden. The only remnant of my Minnesota upbringing that will grace the table is the Jello salad. I'm using fresh fruit instead of canned fruit cocktail, and yogurt instead of Cool Whip, but I just can't think of an acceptable substitute for the Jello itself.

So, here I sit on the night before Thanksgiving, feeling ambitious and inexplicably smug. But check in with me 'round this time tomorrow. I'll either report that Thanksgiving on the Farm (a) was amazing and not really any more time-consuming than my old way of doing things, (b) was significantly more time-consuming but well worth the extra work, or (c) was a colossal disaster and a waste of time and ingredients. I guess we will see if I can kick the cans.

A Cowgirl Christmas

For the third year in a row, I spent Christmas in Colorado. There is nothing like a white Christmas, and Denver did not disappoint. The weather was moderate for the most part, but we did get a nice snowstorm a couple days before Christmas.

Amid the fun of just hanging out and catching up with the family, we squeezed in a quick trip to the famous Rockmount Ranch Wear store in downtown Denver. Rockmount was founded by Jack A. Weil (1901-2008), who introduced the first commercially-made western shirts with snaps and bolo ties. I scored a snappy pair of red lizard skin Corral boots for the Houston rodeo.

Planning Ahead

Next May the Redrock Farm in Chelsea, Vermont will plant a Fraser fir for me and care for it until it is ready to harvest. Twice a year I'll receive pictures of it with a yardstick so I can track its progress. For now, this seems like a reasonable alternative to starting my own New England Christmas tree farm. I can rest assured that I'll have my Fraser fir for Christmas 2022. And you can rest assured that this is my last post on Christmas trees for a while.

Tree-mendous

My Grand fir was harvested and unceremoniously FedExed to the Rainy Day Ranch last Monday.
The Wrangler cut an inch off the stump (we will glue our annual family Christmas card photo onto the stump ring, glaze with shallac, and use as an ornament--pretty crafty, yes?) and placed the tree into the stand within minutes of the tree's arrival.
As I snipped the last length of twine that bound the branches, the tree regained its dignity with a "whoosh" and instantly quadrupled in width. This was in stark contrast to the frozen trees of years past that took a day or two to settle in.

My dear tree is extremely fragrant--the smell is so intense that it can be difficult to sleep or concentrate. But the Wrangler and I discuss this only in whispers and are careful to be very discreet if opening a window here and there to let in some fresh air. The tree is giving us its best, and we wouldn't want to discourage it.

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

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.

Happy Halloween

I bought another pumpkin today. Southern California weather isn't ideal for fall and winter holidays, but we can't start breaking traditions just because the pumpkins turn squishy in two days, and the Christmas tree poses a severe fire hazard within just a week of delivery.

The roasted pumpkin seeds were delicious, and the Jack-o-Lantern was spooktacular.