Todays Special: Christmas Ravioli

In the spirit of the week before the week before Christmas, The Daily Dandy has decided to post an entire week of short posts. I know we are all nearing crunch time in our preparations for the holiday, so as my gift to you, I offer this week of "quickies" sure to satisfy your busy time constraints.

On tap today is our yearly making of my families longstanding Christmas tradition: our Christmas dinner. In a few short hours, 4 women from my family will converge upon my kitchen and get busy making homemade spinach, cheese and sausage ravioli to be served on Christmas day. The recipe came from my paternal Grandmother, who brought the recipe and the tradition over from Luca, Italy. Let me just say that it wouldn't be Christmas without the ravioli's and many of my friends either join me at my Christmas table or leave me their requests for "saving them" some of the delectable hand made pastas. The recipe is believed to be centuries old and our methods of making them archaic so as to keep with the integrity of the recipe. These babies are worth it and so time consuming, we only make them once a year.

Check out this short 2 part "Bitchen Kitchen" Ravioli Rehab (love this girl) if I have inspired in you a craving for some ravioli! Bon Appetit!

Cougarology 101

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Sibling Rivalry

Frick and Frack are at it again and I am at my wits end! My kids are 19 months apart and the only siblings each other has. Wouldn't you think there would be some semblance of brotherly sisterly love? Not a chance. Not with these two. The problem is that neither one has the least amount of tolerance for the other. She's 14 and a freshman in High School and he is 12 and a 7th grade middle schooler. Two completely different worlds and they fight like a couple of 3 year olds.

For years, around this time of year, the old, "Santa is watching" used to do the trick beautifully. Now they are wiser, meaner and know that all that Santa crap is a bunch of bull. They have even resorted to physical retaliation,which I will not tolerate, and name calling from time to time. She, being the oldest, I have explained to her, needs to set the example. We have had many conversations about karma and that her brother's behavior is mostly a reflection of the "mean" that she projects at him. I might as well be talking to the wall because she's not listening. She repeats the "he's so annoying" mantra over and over until the words become her reality. He is the youngest and complains that "she hates me so I hate her" there bye completing the vicious circle. (and I do mean vicious) He has even asked me why she hates him so much. Heartbreaking, I know.

I have to say I can relate to his angst. Being the youngest of five, all I wanted was love and attention from my older brother, my closest sibling in age. He was BRUTAL to me and I had the bruises to prove it. He saw me as nothing more than the annoying little sister he believed I was and he tortured me for it. My greatest weapon against him was,"I'm gonna tell mom". Yup, worked like a charm although I very rarely told on him. I wanted him to love me and I knew that going to mom would effectively put an end to that. The threat was all I needed and when I felt imminent danger, you bet I would use it. The moral of that story is that now, as adults, he is possibly one of my best friends and my go-to-guy on a lot of things. As for these two? I really wonder.

Take for example this exchange last week while I was in another country.

CELL PHONE RINGING IN LOUD CASINO

ME: Hello?

HER: Mom, He is in your room and we (her TWO friends) want to watch a movie and He won't let us.

ME: What? (placing my finger in my ear to hear better) Why are you and your friends in my room? (this NEVER happens-almost of the time they are holed up in her room and rarely come out, except to eat-we call her room The Den)

HER: We want to watch a movie and the Babysitter is watching TV in the family room so we can only watch it in your room and He is in there and won't let us.

ME: (now walking away from a hot blackjack table and I hand I just lost because I walked away) Can't you all watch the movie together?

HER: No way mom! We don't want him around.

ME: He was there first and does not have two friends over so either you let Him watch the movie with you or you go back to your room and leave Him alone.

HER: Mom! That's so NOT fair! There are three of us and we need to lay on the bed.

ME: So ask him nicely if he will move over to the sofa.

HER: He won't mom! He's being annoying.

ME: (because I know her so well) Did you ask Him or did you tell Him?

HER: I asked him mom, and he won't.

ME: Let me talk to your brother.

HIM: (annoyed) Mom, she comes in here and starts bossing me around and telling me to leave.

ME: I will deal with that when I come home. As for now, she has agreed to watch a movie with all of you together. Would you mind moving over to the sofa so that you and the three girls can all watch the movie comfortably?

HIM: I don't want to watch a movie. I want to got to bed and you said I could sleep in your bed while you were away.

ME: (realizing that this is not going to be easily resolved AND that I am problem solving via cell phone from another country) Ok then, you have two options. Number one, got to bed in your own room or number 2, watch the movie with the girls and fall asleep on the sofa. In case you guys haven't noticed, I am in Aruba.

HIM: Whatever mom. She can have your room. I HATE HER!! Click........

I didn't call back. I decided to let them work it out on their own. Call me a bad mother, call me a coward, call me crazy but I've had just about all I can take of the war of my children. Whether I am thousands of miles away or just down the hall-somehow they have to learn to work things out on their own. I hope and pray that they will become best friends someday. It's just that today I am waiting and wondering when and if someday will come.

Dream Analysis

Last night I dreamed I was working with Donna Karan (the designer) at one of her fashion shows. While I was there, I think I was sitting at a table, and I couldn't find my shoes. They were, for strange some reason, mules, which I never wear. For those of you who don't know what mules are, they are like slippers, but not really slippers, slip on shoes. I woke up thinking that this dream must have some significance in some way. So, of course, I Googled it. There is so much crap about dreams out there and dreams about shoes that now I'm confused and don't know what to think.

The first thing I found was this:

In general, shoes represent your approach to life. It suggests that you are well-grounded or that you are down to earth. It also represents your convictions about your beliefs.

If you dream that you lose your shoes, then it suggests that you may be searching for your identity and finding/exploring who you are.

Hmmm...Unemployed, check. Unmarried, check. Could be.

Then I saw this:

To dream of losing your shoes indicates that you are wasting your efforts in unproductive activity.

OK but what's the unproductive activity here? Unemployment? Blogging?

Oh yeah and I love this one:

To lose your shoes is not a good omen as it foretells that your loved ones shall betray you when you need them most. So do not depend on them.

Been there, done that. No thanks.

And this:

Shoes are interpreted as wife or husband. Shoes may also mean 1- wife or husband 2- g/f 3- power 4- livelihood 5- a travel 6- Death if he was alone in the desert.

Huh??

This:

Losing your shoes indicates a waste of time on your part.

Now we have a theme. Wasting time... soul searching. Hmmm..

Should I believe all this jargon? If dreams are our subconscious working through problems or issues in our conscious, what does all this crap mean?

You guys got any suggestions??

21 Master

So I'm back and the vacation was fantastic! So great in fact, that the reality of my house being a complete disaster, and there is not a drop of edible food in the fridge and the kid's laundry is in a mountain-like pile in the laundry room, and that the Christmas trees is not up yet does not phase me in the least. I've got other things on my mind. Other important and pressing matters of the mind....I'm dreaming of and missing like crazy my nightly Blackjack game. Yeah, gambling has a way of doing that to you.

I was never a Blackjack player before this trip. I would stand behind the game and watch My Guy play and clap and cheer and get excited when he won, just happy to be there. He taught me to play Caribbean Stud last year when we were in Vegas and I enjoyed that game and the fact that $100.00 got me a few hours at a table (just like a grown-up) and maybe a few, cheap, earnings for the time spent gambling. It was fun and we played a little Caribbean Stud on this trip also, but the REAL fun came when on our first night there, when My Guy was winning at a $25 Blackjack table, he asked me to sit down next to him and play (with his money-of course).

I was really nervous at first and declined his offer, citing my complete inexperience at this fast paced game. (I was also worried because thanks to my Wicked Witch of the West third grade teacher, I still can't add, subtract, multiply or divide, on demand in my head, quickly. A prerequisite for the game of Blackjack) But My Guy assured me that he was right there next to me and would help me along every step of the way. OK, I reluctantly agreed and figured this to be a reasonably safe foray into the game of Blackjack.

As a casual observer, there were a few rules of Blackjack that already knew, just from watching the game like:

• the dealer must stand on 17
• double your bet or "press" when you are hot
• always split aces

So I sat and played with My Guy coaching me along. And I played, and I played, and I played and before I knew it I was HOT and doing quite well on my own. Blackjacker's are funny people- and as I played I learned about the "real" rules of their game.

• They hate newbies-(like me)-who tend to "stay" on a fifteen while the dealer is showing a ten and they will yell at you and blame you for "f*cking up the whole shoe". (for the record-no one yelled at me- but that's just because I had My Guy coaching me) and if you do screw up they will never let you forget it.
• ALWAYS hit on 16 if the dealer has over an 8. I ended up HATING 16.
• NEVER hit on a 12, 13 and so on if the dealer is showing a 2, 3, 4or a"bust" card as it's called.
• Double up on anything over an 8 and under a 10 if the dealer is showing a bust card.
• Double up on an 11 only if the dealer is showing under a ten.
  
• Never buy insurance on the dealer's possible Blackjack. (although I saw plenty of people do it, the consensus is that it's a fool's bet).
• Splitting pairs increases your chances and is usually a good bet, especially when you draw two eights-thereby ridding yourself of the dreaded sixteen.

We ended up winning big on our first night there; real big, with both of us playing. So it became our nightly fun. After dinner out we would return to our hotel and spend the next few hours in the Casino playing Blackjack. After two nights of coaching, I was able to sit alone at a table and play well (the tables were busy that night and we couldn't find two seats together). Besides that, I wouldn't play at more than a $10 minimum table. I am, at most, a cautious gambler.

I am also a chip hoarder. This is a VERY good thing. I told you I played at only the $10 tables, so every time I got a $25 chip, I would throw it into my purse and forget about it. Every time My Guy would get a $100 chip I would take it and do the same thing. He would protest, of course, but at the end of the night, after the drinks and chips were spent, we always had plenty to cash out and My Guy was grateful for my frugality.

I returned home no longer a "newbie", but a somewhat seasoned Blackjacker, happy for time spent at the tables and grateful for the many things I learned. Blackjack is a great game that can turn fortunes one way or the other in an instant. Some days you win big and some days you loose big but it's never boring. We enjoyed some good conversations, great casino comps and a fun relaxing time, thanks to, interestingly enough, neither his or my Blackjack skills. I would say it was mostly due to my master chip hoarding skills.

The Day Of Larger Than Life

There used to be this great coffee shop in Cape Cod called Mrs. Wyatt's Tea Room. It was a very eclectic little restaurant with mismatch tables and chairs, big soft bean bag chairs, crayons and coloring books for the kids and lots of cool books everywhere. It was the kind of place you could get a great home cooked breakfast, homemade bread, quiches, and peanut and butter and jelly sandwiches with the crusts cut off. It was there, many years ago, that I read this enormous Birthday Book with detailed facts about every day of the year. The caption for today's birthday read, "The Day of Larger Than Life." That's today and it's my birthday. I always remembered it because I thought it summed my personality up perfectly because when I do things, I never do them small.

Other "Larger than Lifer's" born today:

Brittney Spears-27

Lucy Liu-40

Nelly Furtado-30

Stone Phillips-54

Looks like I am in good company!

To celebrate my birthday, My Guy is taking me to a fabulous Caribbean destination for the next six days. It's a kid-free, stress-free, blog-free, (I may pop in unannonced from time to time) much needed, birthday getaway and I can hardly wait to hop on the plane tomorrow morning and be ON the beach, a cocktail with an umbrella by noon.

Can you guess where I am headed? I'll give you a hint: I will be spending some time at the casinos and if you don't see me pop up anywhere by next Tuesday, let's just hope I didn't disappear off the face of the earth or get sold into sex slavery. (My Guy will keep a watchful eye on me ;)

Have a great week everyone! Peace!

Top Ten Reasons Why An Entire Weekend Of Drinking After The Age Of Forty Is Never A Good/Bad Thing

To kick off the joyous holiday season, I spent the weekend with a group of my high school girlfriends drinking, shopping and reaking havoc on the shores of Cape Cod. Did I also mention that after the age of forty this may never be a good thing. Here's why:

10. Old age is a bi*ch! Hanging out with the girls and drinking WAYYY too many is a constant reminder that you're no longer eighteen and invincible. Grow the F-up! (Although, somewhere we must get "brownie points" for giving it the old college try and getting it somewhat right).

9. Two Advil just doesn't do "the trick" any more. Forty-plus'es need at least three or four and, having to remember to take the Advil before, during and after the drink fest is key. God forbid you forget this all important detail, cuz if you play-you pay!


8. A gaggle of dazzling, hot, drunk, loud and obnoxious "cougars" attract the most undesirable male following. The Cape Cod "townies" thought they had died and gone to heaven and became our fan-club for the weekend. Lucky for us, a little more than a few of them had ALL of their teeth. Good times.


7. Drunk shopping puts impulse shopping to SHAME. You wake up the next morning to find your $300 in cash is gone, and you've got more than a few shopping bags full of unnecessary Black Dog apparel and Cape Cod hoodies and t-shirts to show for it.


6. Being the only make-up artist in a group of seven gorgeous women is not easy. Forty plus women see this as a free spa service for the weekend and will most definitely take advantage of this fact. Trying to get your own make-up on and everyone else's in a timely fashion is a not an easy task-especially when they are lined up and waiting outside the bathroom door.


5. No matter how "skinny" you think you are-there's always someone else in the group that leads you to compare yourself to Shamu The Killer Whale on his best day.


4. No one can see. I mean really-everyone is fighting this fact in one way or another. Some have gone the contact lens route or have reading glasses, while the rest of us drunks are pretending we can read the menu and ordering all kinds of obscure shit no one ever heard of because we just can't see the fine print. (The good thing here is we are all in the same boat)


3. There's always one. Yup, one of us overindulged in party mode and ended up spending the wee hours of the morning on what I can only compare to "a bad trip". The thing is after Forty, instead of realizing that you are just plain sick, you think that you are either having a heart attack, a serious allergic reaction, or someone slipped you a mickey in your drink. Contemplating a trip to the emergency room becomes a lot easier after forty than if you were a kid in high school and the panic that ensues becomes debilitating. While we took turns holding her hair as she prayed to the Porcelain God, she would utter things like, "Tell my kids I love them." Good thing for her we were all there to get through it, consoling her and taking care of her. We had her back.


2. Drunk over 40's are smart. No one wanted to be designated driver so we hired a local cabbie with a mini-van to lovingly be our "bitch" for the weekend. I think he had more fun than we did and turned out to be a great guy who watched out for us.

And the number one reason Why Drinking After the Age of Forty Is Never A Good/Bad Thing:

1. It takes two days to recover from a full weekend of drinking with the girls. Waking up on the Monday morning after a weekend bender with every muscle, ache and pain intensified, serves as your notice that the weekend's activities go against every law of nature of your forty year old body. But the memories, bonding and time spent with people you love like crazy and love you the same way are well worth it.

For sure, we will most certianly do it all over again. It's just that now, we need at least six months between to recover!