3. Even great chefs make substitutions from time to time. If, for instance, the baby has had about enough of your Anne Geddes nonsense, you can keep the oversized stock pot but maybe go with a tougher cut of meat:
[img attachment=”79345″ align=”alignnone” size=”medium” alt=”lucy in pot” /]
4. These seem to be all jokes about eating my children. Hey, look at the time:
If you’re anything like me, you will feel terrible if your family spends Thanksgiving gorging on heavy food and then slouching in front of the TV. But you also have no intention of going outside and exerting yourself, because you definitely want to gorge on heavy food. What to do?
I’m hoping to nudge my family into playing some games after the big meal — nice games, easy games, with no running around or sitting entirely upright. Here are a few of our favorites:
Jebrahamadiah and Balthazar (also called “Master and Servant”)
I am not sure why my kids call this one “Jebrahamadiah and Balthazar,”except that (a) it has something to do with the Jeb! flyers we kept getting in the mail, and (b) they are weirdos.
THE RULES: One person gives orders, the other person explains why he can’t carry them out. The answer has to be part of a consistent narrative — you can’t just make up a new excuse for each command.
Here is an abbreviated example. The longer you can draw it out, the funnier it gets:
Jebrahamadiah! Go get me a glass of water. I would, but I just broke the last glass.
Then go get me a cup of water. I would, but when I broke the glass, I cut my finger, and I can’t use my hand.
Well, use your other hand. I would, but when I was searching for a Band-aid for my one hand, I slammed the medicine chest door on my finger, and now both hands are useless.
Then call an ambulance. I can’t, because, if you’ll recall, my hands don’t work.
Then use the speaker phone. I would, but when I slammed the medicine chest door, some nail polish remover fell on my phone and now the speaker doesn’t work.
Then just shout out the window for help. I would, but the neighbors saw me wrecking my phone, and he’s a big jerk, and laughed so hard that he drove off the road and now he’s in a coma.
Well, shout out the other window on the other side of the house. I would, but when the other neighbor drove off the road, he knocked a utility pole down, and a live wire landed on the house on the other side and now it’s on fire, so I don’t want to bother them.
Well . . . okay, fine, I’ll get my own water.
Shatner!
This one can be played all day long, while cooking, while setting the table, during the meal, and so on, until you put your foot down and tell them to knock it off or you’re going to strangle somebody.
THE RULES: Life goes on as normal, until someone shouts, “Shatner!” — and then everyone has to do what they’re doing as William Shatner.
I actually stink at this game, but my kids are horrifyingly good at it.
Companion game: Duchovny
Pretty much the opposite of Shatner. You respond in such an understated way that people have to fight the urge to check your vital signs.
Greg
This one benefits more than others from either having a few glasses of wine in you, or being eleven years old (I cannot recommend both).
THE RULES: You sing songs, but instead of “I,” “me,” or “mine,” you say “Greg.”
There’s “With or Without Greg” by U2; “Amazing Grace” (How sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like Greg); and who can forget that sentimental ballad from The Music Man, “Till There Was Greg.”
Extra points if one of your guests is actually named Greg.
One Syllable Off
This one is either much easier or much harder to do when you’ve had a few drinks, depending on what kind of “had a few drinks” person you are.
THE DECEPTIVELY SIMPLE RULES: All you do is sing a song with the normal lyrics, but you start singing the first syllable on the second note:
So instead of :
Take . . .ME-out-to-the-BALL . . . game . . .
Take . . . ME-out-with-the-crowd . . . .
BUY-me-some-peanuts-and-CRACK . . . er-jacks . . .
I . . . don’t-care-if-we-NE-ver-get-back . . .
So-it’s-root . . . root-root-for-the-home . . . team . . .
and so on. I think I got mixed up in there somewhere. If you find this confusing, you’re in the right frame of mind for this game.
In the manner of the adverb
Okay, this one has a little bit of getting up and doing stuff, but if you’re smart, you can keep it pretty tame.
THE RULES: One person thinks of an adverb, and everyone else has to guess what it is, by watching him do things in the manner of that adverb.
For instance, say I’m thinking about “bitterly.” The other shout, “Make some biscuits in the manner of the adverb!” so you commence muttering resentfully about the stupid butter not being cold enough, and how everybody else has a pastry blender, but you have to get along with two pathetic butter knives, and how you certainly hope they appreciate how much trouble you went to, but it doesn’t seem likely, and so on. And they shout out words like “Resentfully?” or “Angrily?” until someone guesses it.
In other news, I definitely need to get the baking started. Humph. Where’s my butter knives?
I never especially enjoyed the harp interludes (Harpo’s or anyone’s. A harp is a harp), but I was fascinated at the change that came over his face, and the way he carried himself as soon as he settled into the music. The mania dropped away and his eyes softened. We always used to fast-forward past the harp solos, but now I feel grateful that they were left in, because it gives us a chance to see something of the real man. You can see his sincere love of children in the beginning of this clip from A Night at the Opera, where he starts by playing the piano before moving to his harp . . .
Since we got off to a kind of bumpy start with my blog here, I thought I’d set a few things straight. First of all, who is Simcha Fisher? Might you be Simcha Fisher? Answer these questions to find out.
1. You have more kids than there are planets, even with Pluto. With a family this size you’re the perfect one to:
(a) Evangelize, or something.
(b) Serve as a horrible example of what happens when you never learn how to use a thermometer. Thanks a lot, Common Core.
(c) Maybe find a hobby? There’s a fine line between being open to life and making a spectacle of your fecund self.
2. When someone asks how many kids you actually have, you’re likely to say:
(a) “Two.”
(b) “Exactly the right number. Hashtag blessed! Hashtag soblessed!”
(c) “I don’t like to impose my own numeronormative notions of quantity on them, so I’m going to let them grow up and decide for themselves how many of them there are.”
(d) Tearfully, “I dunno.”
3. Look up. What do you see?
(a) A wide open vista full of promise and possibility, at once challenging and inspiring.
(b) The sky curling up like a scroll and these freaky bird lion dudes with extra heads. No more gas station wine cooler for you, man.
(c) Some memorization notes for Latin verb conjugations. Nope, not studying for at test; you just like to keep the old noodle active.
(d) Literal noodles. Again. After you specifically made a rule against flinging noodles on the ceiling.
4. One of your most cherished memories of your formative semester in Rome is:
(a) Sketching cathedrals.
(b) Making a documentary about a grassroots campaign to let seminarians grow awesome beards because Theology of the Body Something Something.
(c) Eating, praying, loving, emphasis on all three!!!!! <3 <3
(d) That afternoon at that Italian police station with the four pregnant teenagers who stabbed somebody.
5. You met your husband:
(a) At a turkey trot. You had forgotten your energy gel, and he had an extra pouch – but it turned out to be Tri-Berry Gluten Free! And you’re allergic to tri-berries. Great conversation starter, anyway. He still looks great in sweat-wicking leggings.
(b) Through an online dating site. You were both working on designing a new algorithm designed to cut down on matches that ended up with pregnant Italian teenagers stabbing people.
(c) Last week. You’re getting married next week. Gift registry here.
(d) Surrounded by trees, darkness, destiny, and gin.
6. The last time you met a really important person, you:
(a) Got shy and clammed up.
(b) Came off a little giggly when asking for an autograph, but he must be used to that.
(c) Offered a firm handshake, and moved along. We’re all equal in God’s eyes, after all.
(d) Inadvertently made a joke about Archimedes’ Screw, which you totally would have gotten away with except that you then snort-laughed and said, “Oh, I’m sorry, that’s a terrible thing to say!”
7. The whole time you’ve been writing this:
(a) You’ve been continually offering your typing fingers up to God, so that He may work His holy will through you, in ways large and small, capitalized and italicized, even unto that wiggly thing on Spanish “n” (it’s option+N, and then “n.” You’re welcome)
(b) Your children spontaneously cordoned themselves off into a different wing of your orderly, peaceful, adequately-sized house, and organized by liturgical color their collection of pre-Vatican I mantillas.
(c) You’ve been dripping sweat onto your specially designed laptop desk for use while planking. Fab abs don’t fab themselves! Theology of the Body again, woooo!
(d) Your child actually took an actual bite of her diaper.
8. You travel around the country giving speeches to Catholic audiences. This is because you:
(a) Are extraordinarily outgoing and sociable; might as well make a career out of it!
(b) Had a dream in which St. Josemaria Escriva and St. Christina the Outstanding sang a snappy show tune about how you had to.
(c) Enjoy pumping milk in the bathroom at O’Hare. Invigoratin’.
(d) Have a coupon for 40% a gorgeous dress with pockets and need an excuse to use it before it expires.
9. You keep getting hired to write for respectable Catholic websites because you:
(a) Have a degree in theology.
(b) Have a degree in canon law.
(c) Surely have a degree in something, anything.
(d) Understand the word “deadline.”
If you answered mostly (d),* you are Simcha Fisher.
God help you. And God help Aleteia.
*Except for the one about Archimedes’ Screw. That was my mother.
First I had a hard time keeping it a secret, and then I got busy and forgot to tell you, and so now here it is at the last minute: I’m moving. To Aleteia. Starting today! Here’s my first post: A quiz to see if you are Simcha Fisher. I dunno, it seemed funny at the time. Starting as soon as I work my way through a few stupid technical issues.
I’ve loved being here at Patheos, and it wasn’t easy to make the decision to leave. I’ve made some friends I hope to keep forever.
Will you come see me at Aleteia? The entire site has been revamped, and it’s just gorgeous, with Elizabeth Scalia at the helm and a wonderful group of writers and contributors. Along with the indefatigable Deacon Greg Kandra, who moved to Aleteia some weeks ago, I’ll be blogging all through the week. I’ll still be blogging at the Register, but probably not quite as often.
Saturday is the only day I came close to cooking anything interesting. THIS WAS INTERESTING.
The recipe I used called for roasted poblano peppers, which I’ve never used before. The supermarket’s labels weren’t clear, and I wasn’t completely sure the peppers I chose would be hot enough. They sure looked pretty, though, especially after roasting, which I did under the oven broiler:
Then I took off the seeds and stems and as much of the skin as possible, and put them in the blender, still worrying that it was going to be too bland.
As soon as I opened the blender lid, everyone’s eyes started to water and everyone’s nose started to run, and everyone in the kitchen started to choke and gag. It was spicyin the same way that the Grand Canyon is deep: Technically, that’s an accurate adjective, but you don’t really grasp the full import of the word until you’re standing at the edge and you can’t actually breathe for a minute.
I started to feel a little nervous about my soup at this point. But at least I knew I had the right kind of pepper.
So I got the rest of the ingredients in and let it simmer for a while, and once it was heated through, the retching subsided, and the kitchen smelled less like, “I said,LET MY PEOPLE GO!” and more like, “Perhaps we can market this as a homeopathic remedy for sinus patients.”
By the time I mixed in the cheddar and the cream cheese, it smelled like the place that poblano peppers go when they have been very, very good.
Verdict: I ate about three gallons of it. I had to steel myself before every spoonful, but it was magnificently worth it. If I serve it again, I’ll have something cooling to eat in between, like slices of mango. We made do with bananas.
UPDATE: Thanks to some sleuthing from my Facebook friends, I now know that these were most likely scotch bonnets, not poblanos. That explains a thing or two.
The corn bread, I made a double recipe of the one on the side of the corn meal canister, but I decreased the sugar a bit.
Also, if you run a pat of butter all over the top of the corn bread as soon as you pull it out of the oven, it gives it a nice sheen.
I like this cornbread recipe because (a) you make it all in one bowl; and (b) everything is in half, quarter, or whole cups. So if you have one of those kitchens where you know you have six or seven sets of cup measures scattered around somewhere, but all you can find is a quarter cup measure, you can still manage fine. If all you can find is a third of a cup, though, you are oodscray.
SUNDAY
FAMILY BIRTHDAY PARTY!
Left the kids with three pizzas and Damien and Corrie and I went to my brother Jacob’s house for his birthday, where we had chicken and broccoli divan with rice. Must get my sister-in-law’s recipe — it was delicious. A happy day.
I hope when my kids grow up, they will have parties like this together, with tons of food and tons of kids, and a very pleasant doggie.
I brought four apple pies.
I’ve been having the worst time with pie crust lately, so I made a streusel topping, and it turned out fine. I also made twice as much as I need, so I have the extra stored in the fridge for later.
Streusel topping:
3/4 cup flour
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup butter
Rub the dry ingredients into the butter and cut with a butter knife until it’s all crumbly. Sprinkle over pies and bake as usual.
For Thanksgiving, I’m gonna try again to make a decorative crust, though. Here’s a short video with 20 ideas for decorative crimps on pie crust. A few are brilliant:
Also, I want that green bracelet.
MONDAY
BEEF BARLEY SOUP; BISCUITS (from a can)
I never get tired of this soup. Basic recipe here. This week, I used steak (which was cheaper than soup meat, in the quantities I wanted); canned tomatoes, red onions, mushrooms, barley, beef broth, lots of garlic and red pepper flakes and freshly -ground black pepper. Don’t forget, barley isn’t like pasta, and takes a good forty minutes to cook all the way through.
There should be a name for that sensuous moment when the first ingredients start to sizzle and the sound, smell, and sight envelop you in a cloud of fragrant soup anticipation.
I Googled “sensuous vs. sensual” just to be on the safe side, but let’s be honest, it’s kinda both. I really like soup.
My only comment about the biscuits is that some people live in houses where otherpeople hear the oven timer beeping, and they just turn it off and walk away without telling anyone that the timer went off. This is not in the best interest of the biscuits.
TUESDAY
HOT DOGS; CHIPS; RAW VEGGIES; LEFTOVER APPLE PIE
Tuesday was a blur. Much of this week was a blur. My husband said, “When I think about your afternoon driving routine, I just get mad!” I did chop up a giant platter of raw veggies, which we ate for three days for lunches and snacks as well as dinner. I’ll spare you the story of the French onion dip with the hole in the bottom, and of all the poor French onion dip-related decisions I made while leading up to the discovery that it was moldy anyway.
WEDNESDAY
NACHOS; HOT DOGS; AVOCADOS; GRITS
My 13-year-old son was in heaven. Nachos and hot dogs? Nachos AND hot dogs????
Also, grits are the best. Little butter and salt? Num num num.
THURSDAY
GRILLED CHICKEN AND SALAD; HARD BOILED EGGS
Chicken breasts were $1.77 a pound! Haven’t seen it that low for years. I made a quickie marinade out of veg oil, wine vinegar, garlic powder, salt, fresh pepper, and dried parsley, and was really surprised at how tasty it was. Just douse the chicken in the dressing and put it under the broiler for 20 minutes or so, turning it once. Let it rest a minute, then slice it up and serve it over a green salad.
This is my Meal of Great Virtue, with the lean meat and the fresh greens. The kids compensate by smothering it in creamy dressings.
I don’t know why I made eggs. I think I just noticed we had six boxes of eggs in the fridge, and that seemed silly. Anyway, we got all protetin’d up for the night.
FRIDAY
I GUESS SPAGHETTI
I’m pre-resting on my laurels for all the wonderful things we’re going to have for Thanksgiving. I’ll probably do a food post sometime before Thursday next week, in case people want to share recipes before the actual day. That makes more sense, right?
Question of the week: Do you like Thanksgiving? Why or why not?
Maybe you don’t need a reminder, but I do. Almost none of us are in a position to do anything else. We can vote, we can argue, we can maybe collect money or baby carriers or signatures or other signatures or bug-out bags – but if you believe in God, then doing any of these things without praying is like shopping for furniture when you’re homeless. Prayer is where we ought to live, where we ought to start our day from and where we come home to at night. Prayer is the foundation under our feet and the roof over our heads. Going it alone, without prayer, turns us all into refugees.
“We’re going to have to do things that we never did before. And some people are going to be upset about it, but I think that now everybody is feeling that security is going to rule,” Trump said. “And certain things will be done that we never thought would happen in this country in terms of information and learning about the enemy. And so we’re going to have to do certain things that were frankly unthinkable a year ago.”
Yahoo News asked Trump whether this level of tracking might require registering Muslims in a database or giving them a form of special identification that noted their religion. He wouldn’t rule it out.
“We’re going to have to — we’re going to have to look at a lot of things very closely,” Trump said when presented with the idea. “We’re going to have to look at the mosques. We’re going to have to look very, very carefully.”
[T]he religious sisters working to combat trafficking would go to all lengths to rescue women, often dressing up as prostitutes and going out on the street to integrate themselves into brothels.
“These sisters do not trust anyone. They do not trust governments, they do not trust corporations, and they don’t trust the local police. In some cases they cannot trust male clergy,” he said, adding that the low-key group preferred to focus on their rescue work rather than promotion.
“They work in brothels. No one knows they are there.”
…
Studzinski said the network of religious sisters, that was in the process of expanding, also targeted slavery in the supply chain with sisters shedding their habits and working alongside locals for as little as 2 U.S. cents an hour to uncover abuses.
There are over a thousand of them in 80 countries.
“Now everybody is feeling that security is going to rule,” says Trump. No, not everybody, thank God. Not these sisters, whose love gives them a steely courage that puts the love of security to shame.
Trump thinks we have to sacrifice everything in order to be safe from the other. These sisters are willing to sacrifice everything in order to save other people.
If you have read it, are there things you would like to see included in any future editions (certain problems addressed, topics discussed, sections refined)? Even if you haven’t read it, are there things you would like to see addressed in a book that’s intended to help people live the Catholic vision of sexual love in a healthy way and overcome problems and struggles in a faithful manner?
Let me know in the comments, and I’ll pass it along to him. Please don’t be a jerk. Criticism is fine, but keep it factual, not personal, please!
I will admit, I haven’t read his book in a long time, so I’m not sure if I remember exactly what’s in it. My own suggestion for an expanded topic: a clear discussion about what kind of intimate behavior is moral when you’re abstaining — or at least a guide for how to judge your behavior. Some couples keep a strict hands-off policy, which may or may not work for them, and some couples think that’s everything’s okay as long as no one reaches orgasm.
I do cover this topic in my book, The Sinner’s Guide to Natural Family Planning, in the chapter called (heh heh) “Groping Toward Chastity.” I said that there are a few things which are always off limits; that we’re not supposed to try to make each other orgasm; that some behaviors are acceptable for some couples and not for others; and that we must remember that we speak through our bodies, so we should pay attention to what we are saying to each other when we do what we do with each other. I don’t know if there’s really a better answer than that, but I’d like to hear more opinions about it, anyway. In my experience, priests have no idea what to say, other than keep praying and go to confession if you think you need to.
Oh, and I always associate the phrase “toe-curling” with sudden, severe pain, like when the baby latches on wrong. That might be just me. “Mind-blowing,” I’m okay with.
NB: It will be ten thousands times easier for me to pass along your comments if you leave comments HERE, rather than answering on Facebook or Twitter or via email. I understand that it’s a hassle, but if your goal is to really reach Greg’s ears, then that’s the way to go! Thanks.
If you have read it, are there things you would like to see included in any future editions (certain problems addressed, topics discussed, sections refined)? Even if you haven’t read it, are there things you would like to see addressed in a book that’s intended to help people live the Catholic vision of sexual love in a healthy way and overcome problems and struggles in a faithful manner?
Let me know in the comments, and I’ll pass it along to him. Please don’t be a jerk. Criticism is fine, but keep it factual, not personal, please!
I will admit, I haven’t read his book in a long time, so I’m not sure if I remember exactly what’s in it. My own suggestion for an expanded topic: a clear discussion about what kind of intimate behavior is moral when you’re abstaining — or at least a guide for how to judge your behavior. Some couples keep a strict hands-off policy, which may or may not work for them, and some couples think that’s everything’s okay as long as no one reaches orgasm.
I do cover this topic in my book, The Sinner’s Guide to Natural Family Planning, in the chapter called (heh heh) “Groping Toward Chastity.” I said that there are a few things which are always off limits; that we’re not supposed to try to make each other orgasm; that some behaviors are acceptable for some couples and not for others; and that we must remember that we speak through our bodies, so we should pay attention to what we are saying to each other when we do what we do with each other. I don’t know if there’s really a better answer than that, but I’d like to hear more opinions about it, anyway. In my experience, priests have no idea what to say, other than keep praying and go to confession if you think you need to.
Oh, and I always associate the phrase “toe-curling” with sudden, severe pain, like when the baby latches on wrong. That might be just me. “Mind-blowing,” I’m okay with.
NB: It will be ten thousands times easier for me to pass along your comments if you leave comments HERE, rather than answering on Facebook or Twitter or via email. I understand that it’s a hassle, but if your goal is to really reach Greg’s ears, then that’s the way to go! Thanks.
