I Missed National Coffee Day???

So it turns out that Wednesday was National Coffee Day. Did I have to be the very last person on the planet to find this out?


It’s not as if I don’t drink my standard eleventy-three cups a day, yes, even in the heat of summer. I just love the stuff. Sue me.

It’s not even about the caffeine, because I’m strictly a decaf drinker, for a variety of reasons, most of which fall under the heading of “I’ll take boring topics for $600, Alex.” But the flavor of choice is hazelnut decaf, just in case you were going to send me a shipment for my birthday, which I believe you forgot, by the way.

Wow. I’m beginning to sound angry. I’m beginning to scare myself, and this is WITHOUT caffeine. Good thing I never touch the stuff, right?

So the only reason I even found out about National Coffee Day AT LAST, is that my small-h hero, Grammar Girl, Tweeted about the difference between “expresso” and “espresso”. In case you missed it, (bwah-hah-hah), “expresso” would be slang for “speedy”, and “espresso” is the coffee drink.

Now it’s possible that the whole reason I missed this non-event event Wednesday is that it was the birthday of three very important people: my stepson Jason (he had a great birthday), my stepdaughter Jaime (she had a great birthday) and my capital-H Personal Hero and Spiritual Guide, Gwen Ifill.

I haven’t heard from Gwen about her birthday, but she wasn’t on the Newshour that night, so let’s just hope it was a good time for Gwen, too. (She doesn’t write, she doesn’t call… go raise children…)

Anyhoo, I hope all you coffee lovers out there celebrated big time, and next year I’ll be on the alert for National Coffee Day. That way, when I go to bed the night before, and hang my IV bag of Mornin’ Joe on the pole, I can put a bow on it and feel festive.

P.S. I can't believe September's already over! Waaaah! Nothing says 'end-of-summer' more than this-- not Labor Day, not stashing the white shoes or purse, not back-to-school, not anything. Once you start writing 'October' on your checks, you know the whole season's gone... Ah, well... I'm just saying... Bring on the Halloween candy!

How Do I NOT Do It?

Okay, so everyone’s doing the year in review—where we’ve been, what we’ve done, and how things have changed. Some ambitious writers have even reviewed the whole decade, in the mistaken (but understandably so) view that tonight we enter a new decade. (That’d be next year, son.)


I don’t have the energy.

This year we didn’t send a single holiday card—not Hanukkah, not Christmas. This is not like me. I usually take great pleasure in sending cards to friends and neighbors , some of whom we see frequently, some rarely; some of whom we hear from often, some just at this time of year. So when we threw in the towel on this year, we were relieved, but relief was quickly replaced with Major Guilt. I’m not over it yet—we got lovely cards from lovely friends who received nothing tangible from us.

I’m still working on the holiday letter. For 2007. What is it with me? I used to work ‘outside the home’, as we say in Ms. Magazine, full time. Add an hour and a half commuting time per day, add time spent with growing kids, including ball games, practices, violin lessons, and a little volunteer work, and I can hardly believe I ever had time to sleep. But I did. I also sent holiday cards…

Now I’m more or less retired, doing some freelance writing, obviously blogging, and running a custom embroidery business. (Betcha didn’t know that about me, huh?) But I can’t seem to make it all happen. I’m not reading the number of blogs I would like to, I’m not keeping the house as organized as I expected that I would, once retired, and I’m not getting enough sleep, either. Where, exactly, did I lose control? Did I ever actually have control?

But just so I won’t be the only blogger not to sum up her major achievements of the past twelve months, here are a few of mine:

1. I had my tires rotated.

2. I finished wallpapering my laundry room (I started in 2005. Really.)

3. I gave away my maternity clothes (my youngest child is 28) (Kidding.) (Not about the age, about the clothes.)

4. I changed dentists. No, I didn’t, but my husband did. Of course, he changes dentists like some people change socks.

5. I quit using fabric softener. At first it was just to see if that would clear up the rash I had on my arms, then realized I didn’t really need it anyway, so buh-bye dryer sheets.

6. We endured the chaos of having the carpeting replaced in our whole house. It was a total nightmare while it was happening, but it was worth it in retrospect.

7. I started a blog in August, right about the time the movie “Julie and Julia” came out. Everyone asked me if I saw it. If everyone who asked me that was reading my blog, I’d have a lot more hits each day! (Good movie, by the way.)

Far and away the best of those is #7. I’ve ‘met’ a lot of interesting and talented people by reading their blogs and the blogs of people who comment on those blogs, and—well, you know, pretty soon you have a whole garage full of Amway products. But seriously, folks, when I’m not working the embroidery business, volunteering at the elementary school library, helping out my in-laws (they’re 87—each), or ministering to the orphans at the—wait a minute, I don’t do that—back it up to the in-laws—I adore reading the blogs I’ve come to know and love.

I look forward to more of the same in 2010. So cheers to all of you, and a very happy new year to come! Thanks for stopping by—you really shouldn’t have brought that lovely gift—and try these yummy treats before you go! I hope all your wishes come true, and I hope mine do, too!

Oreo Cream Cheese Truffles

1 package Oreos

1 8 oz. package cream cheese

Chocolate for melting

This is grueling and exhausting (NOT), so buck up for the sheer yumminess of it!

Process the Oreos and the cream cheese in the food processor.

Form into quarter-size balls.

Chill on a cookie sheet till firm (30-45 minutes.)

Dip them in the melted chocolate, and place on wax paper to cool.

O. M. G. Don’t try to thank me now, just go make some more!

Healthy or Unhealthy? The Eye of the Beholder

My husband, you remember him—the Center of the Universe-- is an eternal optimist. Currently he’s hoping for the return of the giant bacon and egg breakfast with fried potatoes as a healthy option. I’m pretty sure he’s not going to see that in this lifetime.

“Remember,” he says, hopeful as a little puppy who sees his leash taken off the doorknob, “they used to think that smoking was actually healthy for you! Now we know it causes cancer. They used to say that meat and potatoes were a solid American dinner. Now it’s considered unhealthy. They used to think liquor was a bad habit. Now they say you should drink a glass of wine every day. Chocolate was totally off-limits as ‘junk’ food. Now they say it’s so full of anti-oxidants that it should be its own food group. They used to recommend salt tablets for people working in hot weather. Now those have been taken off the market as dangerous. Sooner or later everything changes from the ‘Healthy’ column to the ‘Unhealthy’ column, or vice versa.”

“What is this, Sleeper?” I want to know.

You remember the old Woody Allen movie where he wakes up in the future, after having been cryogenically preserved for 200 years? He, too, thinks that a big steak dinner and a fat cigar are going to be recommended by doctors as the path to a long and healthy life!

Of course, this is the man who, when he gets heartburn after eating munchy appetizers, a big steak, baked potato (loaded), broccoli and apple pie a la mode for dessert, concludes that the source of his discomfort was the broccoli. Always.

If we go out for Mexican food, he can inhale tons of chips and salsa, a Margarita, the Mondo Combo plate and a fried ice cream dessert. When he’s miserable later, in search of the Alka-Seltzer, he assures me that the culprit is the apple he ate after lunch. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

So when second-hand smoke is pumped in to all hospital neonatal units because it’s deemed to be really good for healthy lung development, the CoTU will be eating like the love child of Bob Greene and Jane Brody. In other words, don’t hold your breath.