Ponder Post: Just Like the Ones We Used to Know

There are two guilty pleasures of mine that are personal Christmas traditions. The first is watching corny, predictable, Hallmark holiday made-for-TV movies. Frank and/or I record a bunch and then during the Christmas season, each week, we watch one, if not every night, then at least every few nights. My second guilty pleasure is reading Christmas-themed romance novels. They are like Hallmark movies with sex, i.e., rated PG instead of G. The situations are more adult and the romance flourishes beyond merely flirting and kisses. Just Like the Ones We Used to Know © 2006 by Brenda Novak was first published in the anthology Once Upon a Christmas by Harlequin SuperRomance. That auspicious entry alone into the literary world should give a clue to its content.

Angela, a woman in her late twenties has taken over the care of 6th grade age Kayla, because Kayla's mother Stephanie, a drug addict who turned to prostitution to support the habit, is incapable of raising the daughter she conceived in her wild teenage years. Angela and Stephanie had been high school friends until their paths in life diverted. When Angela's parents had died early in her life, Stephanie's mother, Betty, had taken Angela in so she need not enter the foster child system. Whew. As I re-read what I've written, I realize how "soap opera-ish" and "non-Noelic" it appears to be; but don't be turned off. The drugs and streetwalking and early parental death do not dominate; they act only as a background early in the book to very briefly explain and validate single Angela's role in Kayla's life. Angela learns that Kayla's one and only desire and her Christmas wish is to know and meet her biological father. Kayla writes in a school essay

I want to know who I belong to. I want my father. Then I could ask him why he loved my mother enough to make me but didn’t love me enough to stay.

Angela knows who Kayla's father is, but withholds this information. Instead, in the guise of a holiday vacation, she and Kayla set off westward from their home in Denver to the father's home in Virginia City, a 15 hour car drive. Before any revelation, Angela wants to first  to assess his present life situation and the impact a revelation of Kayla's parentage would have on all involved. Angela knew Matt from her high school days in Virginia City, but that was over twelve years ago, and she has no idea what his life is like now.

If Virginia City rings a bell of familiarity, it may be because the fictional Ponderosa Ranch from the TV show Bonanza was roughly a two-hour horse ride from Virginia City. (Listen to Bonanza's opening song to jog your memory.) Virginia City is in the Sierra Nevada Mountain range and averages 50 inches of snow per year. The US average is 26 inches of snow per year. Snow and Christmas are usually paired together and so the Virginia City location for this Christmas time story is quite fitting. 

A relationship evolves among Angela, Matt, Kayla, and Matt's extended family. It is difficult to disclose more information without introducing a spoiler into a predictable plot, so read the book for yourself. Call it trite or heartwarming, maudlin or memorable, but I enjoyed the quick read. I completed it in one sitting at my computer as a Kindle purchase and it made me smile. Yep. A guilty  pleasure. A $1.99 stocking stuffer from Amazon. Hallmark with sex.

SoCal Nursing Visit

A couple weeks before Christmas I flew down to help out my son Dan and his family while Dan had some elective sinus surgery. I flew down Tuesday December 11th, the day before surgery and returned Sunday December 16th. With me there, his wife Carrie did not need to take time off from work to do the out-patient to-and-from transport for the three+ hour surgery and I could do some cooking, medication pickups, and general motherly type nursing duties. Carrie could focus caring for the three kids.

Usually I can find something interesting to amuse myself at an airport. On my flight down, his unique method of creating an "X" indicating this walkway was out of commission in the Oakland airport, caught my eye as somewhat clever.

Wednesday, waiting to go in for his surgery, Dan allowed me to take a picture of him in his Jolly Green Giant garb. I told him it was appropriate for a Christmas elf. His grin was not as big after coming out of the anesthesia but he rallied before too long. Dan rested/slept a fair amount and was on the path to mending within a couple days. Thursday at his home, we watched a movie together, Crazy Rich Asians (2018) which I enjoyed. I had seen it once before with Frank and had deemed it worth a repeat viewing. Dan liked it, also.

As a bonus while I was there, I got to see my three grandchildren and attend Vivian's short preschool Christmas concert.

Lillian posed for me in her adorable sheep pajamas, sporting a very stylish but totally unnecessary bandaid on her cheek.

I placed William in his bouncer seat, which he can barely fit in now, but never-the-less he can give it a very jouncy and exuberant workout.

I have two cute stories to relate. On Saturday morning when Carrie and the kids were not so rushed to get out the door I made pancakes. I called Frank and he texted me the recipe from my cookbook at home. He then suggested I put it in my blog so I would always have it wherever I was. I did. This is it. Ignore the handwritten numbers along the left margin. They are point values from an older Weight Watchers' system. Oh, and I also reduce the baking powder, omit the salt entirely, and concoct my own buttermilk from regular milk and lemon juice.

I mixed it up as I usually do but the batter seemed very runny, more like thin crepe batter and not like thick pancake batter. But I cooked up the first pan's worth and, though the results were pretty flat and came out pretty crumpled up, they tasted ok and the kids loved them. I added more flour beyond what the recipe called for from Carrie's clear acrylic canister on the counter top. The white powder was a little more fine than I was used to but it could have been cake flour. It wasn't. I had used powdered sugar. No wonder the kids like them. They were sweeeeet. No syrup was needed, that's for sure! Carrie figured out my goof and showed me the cabinet space where the flour really was. She was low on eggs so I could not scrap the batter and start again. I just kept adding flour to my thin creamy creation and forged ahead. They were truly like crepes and even eight month old William eagerly gobbled up the nibbles Carrie fed him.

Then Saturday afternoon, right around nap time Lillian (2½) came clumping into the family room wearing pink princess shoes. Vivian (4½) informed her in no uncertain terms that those those were her princess  shoes and Lillian had to take them off and give them back right then and there. Lillian's shoes were the blue ones. Of course Lillian did not obey since she claimed the pink ones matched what she was wearing better. Sibling bickering ensued. 

I intervened. "You know girls, Grandma brought presents when she came, right?" They both nodded. "Well that means I have lots of room in my suitcase and can pack anything you fight over in it to take home with me when I go. You will not be able get it back until you visit me or I visit you again. And I do not know when that will be." They both got very somber. "Lillian please give me those pink shoes you are wearing." She did. I held them up and began to laugh. "Look at this girls. They are two different shoes and in two different sizes. This is what you were fighting over?" They both began to grin sheepishly and the battle was defused.

I thought that was the end of it. Then Sunday morning, after I had packed and was waiting to leave for my late afternoon flight, little Lillian came up to me, hugged my thigh and murmured, "Grandma, did you pack our princess shoes in your suitcase?" I was surprised she remembered, kind of glad my ploy had been so effective, but at the same time I felt about two inches tall that I had caused her such anguish. A Grinch I was not, but it reminded me of that scene with Cindy Lou Who – who was no more that two – when she asked. "Santy Claus, why? Why are you taking our Christmas tree? WHY?"

"No, Sweetie. You and Vivian stopped fighting so all your toys are still here. Grandma did not take anything." I repeat. A Grinch I am not!