Exposé: He doesn’t want a collard shirt

One of my kids just had a growth spurt. With both babies and teens, it’s amazing how they can seem to change form when you look away for a mere moment. I’ve been helping him go through his wardrobe and purge those garments that no longer fit.

Though I often purchase almost every type of item—even fitted clothing—online, add to my list of pandemic anomalies not going to a shoe store to get a son’s feet measured when he’s obviously grown more than just one size. This fact was easier to miss than usual with everyone working remotely, wearing slippers more often than outerwear. SF wardrobe slippers Soft Star

FYI: I was very successful using the printable sizing template from the Oregon company, Soft Star Shoes. The “elves” there make most of our leather slippers. My son ended up with new footwear from two different brands that fit well thanks to that tool.

As it happens, this child is considering a school with a more formal dress code for next year. Collared shirts, dress trousers or khakis, and leather shoes would be a daily requirement. Looking ahead to that possibility, I plan to replace some of his outgrown t-shirts with button front oxfords and a second pair of hiking sneakers with more formal brown or black shoes.plaid collar of shirt visible above jacket neckline

Fortunately, this is a kid who enjoys dressing up. He’s been a bow tie guy since he was little and has a nifty collection of them now mostly silk, but pre-tied. I haven’t had the heart to tell him yet that men wear a larger tie to suit their broader faces, and these will soon be outgrown, too.

Pro Travel Tip for Bow Tie Aficionados: a jumbo, hard-sided eyeglass case makes the perfect protective “suitcase” to keep spiffy pre-tied neckwear from being crushed in transit.

7 colorful bow ties in acrylic storage case next to yellow tie in a protective eyeglass case

Just for fun, here’s a particularly sentimental bow tie of the skinny, Colonel Sanders variety that’s now in my son’s collection. It was my maternal grandfather’s originally, from the Oregon Centennial celebration in 1959, and we found it amongst my mother’s treasures when I emptied her closet after her death.

There was no dissent in the family about which of Mom’s grandsons would be most likely to wear this commemorative novelty neckwear! I don’t recall my grandfather ever wearing it in my presence, though he was a bolo tie guy when he would join us at church in my youth. Come to think of it, Grandpa rocked a bow tie on special occasions, too, so my kid is in good company.

My son prefers suspenders to belts with his suits, striking that distinctive old-school lawyer-in-the-courtroom pose as soon as he’s dressed à la Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch. As early as the elementary grades, he was sincerely delighted to receive clothes as gifts… if they were flashy items like a velvet blazer, a mini tuxedo, or a new fedora.

Suffice to say, this is a child who likes to wear clothes that garner attention. It’s a skill he developed well before learning to tie his own shoes.young child in white oxford, yellow bow tie, and top hat

It was in this context that I brought up clothes shopping over lunch with the kids. I was nagging them to sort through the shoes strewn about the mudroom, refusing to buy new boots for the one whose feet were getting wet in sneakers on every slushy February walk until this dull but necessary task was done.

With the outgrown ones underfoot, there was no room to put away new shoes. Also, someone will be grateful for hand-me-down boots in excellent condition. One side effect of growing so fast is that few items are worn out before they need a new home.

I want to see everything that currently fits you before I start shopping for anything new,” I explained to my reluctant young assistant in the endeavor.

I think I need to get you some more collared shirts, too,” I added to my sharp-dresser. “You might need them for school next year and it’s not like you can’t wear one instead of a t-shirt working from home this spring.”

His response?

Collard shirts? Heck no, I want bok choi shirts!”

Green leaf of collard laid out on a purple towel

Collard shirts? Heck, no, I want bok choi shirts!

Amidst thunderous eye rolling, loss of my appetite, and a chorus of groans, DS1 tried to flee the room, but I kinda sorta got them to agree to work on the clothing sorting project before anyone enjoyed any video games over the weekend.

And you got to enjoy my dear child’s most dreadful pun yet of the pandemic.

Exposé: Stock manipulation in progress (beef, not GameStop)

Maybe you read my previous post about how I freeze leftovers, or maybe you didn’t.

Obviously, I think you probably should read every word that I’ve written, but I can hardly be called an impartial judge.

Wire corner shelving with 4 Crock Pot slow cookers of different typesRegardless, I made a nice pot of beef broth in my Crock-Pot the other day.

After leaving it to simmer overnight, I put it out on my snowy kitchen balcony to cool, finally freezing it into useful, recipe-ready pucks using my silicone muffin pan.Frozen broth popping out of flexed silicone muffin tray

Would you believe that a stinkbug made its way into my fridge on the cooling glass mixing bowl full of stock? It was drawn by the heat, no doubt. Thankfully, I’d covered the bowl with Saran Wrap, creating a wisp of perma-garbage, but also keeping the insect on the exterior. Insect bits are almost never Kosher, by the by.

Winter weather in recent days has left me a bit less than dexterous. My arthritis definitely waxes and wanes with something, whether that’s barometric pressure or my star chart. At any rate, I fumbled a little as I used my customary tongs to prize the icy soup circles out of their silicone enclosure.

Touching that chilly stuff is gross—because there’s a dead animal in there!—and also bitterly cold and painful for already aching finger joints. The tongs are useful, but approaching a necessary evil when wielded by hands I’d call ham-fisted if I hadn’t renounced pork decades ago.

I store my home-made chicken and beef stock in a plastic tub in the top, right corner of my freezer. Within that container, I subdivide the two types in a few labeled Ziploc bags that I rinse periodically and re-use for that same purpose.Hand holding stainless steel tongs placing frozen puck of broth into baggie labeled Beef Stock

Slipping the last few pucks into their baggie, I was struck by this thought:

“My gosh, I’m participating in a stock manipulation!

I think that’s probably all I need to say about that, short of admitting I wish I’d had a copy of my kids’ Game Informer magazine (a GameStop publication) to shove position artfully in the background of my photo for this piece.

Ahem.

Exposé: Cuisine-ophobia or the xenophobic kitchens of another generation

While celebrating a family birthday around a crowded, multi-generational table, I pontificated at my children about the way certain dishes and cuisines have shifted within American society from outsider status to everyday favorites. My immigrant in-laws nodded in agreement as we all discussed the way “normal” home cooking varies over time and between homelands.

pizza“Why, when Grandma was a child,” I intoned, “spaghetti was an ethnic Italian food that your American great-grandmother would never have made at home. Isn’t that funny, since we eat pasta and pizza every week?”

“Ah yes,” replied my younger son, “cuisine-ophobia is a terrible thing!”

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Exposé: My alarm clock is for the birds

My alarm clock doesn’t beep, it chirps.

Actually, I think it could simply beep, but I selected bird sounds as the least annoying option on the menu. I’ve got a fancy alarm clock.

Bedside clock nightstand Mg - 1I didn’t buy it for the birdsong option, but because I need light in order to wake up. That’s another topic worthy of a lot more discussion, but I’ll save it for another day.

The clock’s large lamp begins to glow and the intensity of light gradually increases for about half an hour before the time for which the alarm is set. It’s simulating a natural sunrise.

This bright, sunny morning, I was already awake and started on a bit of blogging over my mug of tea well before my alarm went off.

Sitting at my little table, finishing up my Mother’s Day post, I heard those silly, simulated, alarm clock birds start carrying on. I hurried over to hush them up before they disturbed the rest of the household.

But the clock wasn’t lighting up. Its lamp wasn’t glowing! Usually, the birds don’t sing until the virtual dawn has well and truly arrived.

Was my fancy alarm clock broken? Why wouldn’t the off button work?

And then I realized: the unholy chorus was outside my window.

Bird robin tree sky - 1Ah, spring! It’s for the birds.

Exposé: Call the Mom(b) Squad; she’s going to explode!

Some of us take board games a little too seriously.

Hanukkah 5 gift game Last Letter - 1

Last Letter card game by ThinkFun

We enjoyed “family game night” on a recent Saturday, during which my older son was inspired to exclaim:

Call the Mom(b) Squad; she’s going to explode!”

I’d like to take this opportunity to reassure everyone that this was not a case where I was worked up about losing. I was quite shocked to discover that I went from great to terrible at the game once we limited players over 12 to specific parts of speech. It is true, however, that I have been known to list imaginary players and ascribe higher point levels to them over my family members in those rare instances when I wasn’t going to win…Board game - 1

I was freaking out about reacting sensibly to the possibility of pieces being lost and/or put away outside of their assigned spots. This little blow up was motivated by OCD more than ego. You can’t be faulted for guessing the latter as it is always a fair possibility as far as my motivations go.

A fine time was had by all. My teen’s favorite part of the evening was, of course, his own clever comment. Now you get to enjoy it, too.

DS1 played only under duress because he’s a teenager now and it isn’t cool to spend time with your family. DS2 begs for a family game night every weekend; the little one also angles to play a really long, involved European type table game every time, or invents games of his own.