christmas eve

As they have been doing for over 50 years, NORAD is again tracking Santa's Christmas Eve flight around the world. If all goes according to plan, we just might cross cloud-filled paths as we make our own flight to Texas. If we see him, we'll be sure to remind him how good you were this year.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

i'm not sure why i'm telling you this

When I was younger, my mom would periodically use the clip side of a brown star-shaped hair barrette to scrape away at the caked on earwax in mine and my sibling's ears. Gross, I know. But had you'd taken a peek at the buildup for yourself, you would have swiftly done the same. It didn't hurt exactly, however I can't truthfully tell you that I looked forward to the experience. But to this day, I get shivers down my spine along with an uncontrollable urge to clean out my ears when, during visits home, I find that star-shaped barrette laying in a bathroom drawer.

Fast forward twenty-some-odd years to today where I'm lying on the couch reading my book when Garrett walks up to share with me what he is reading. Because I'm mostly horizontal, I am given a clear view directly into his grimy little ear canal. Crusty leftovers from recent shampoos. Lint from a blanket he snuggles with. Mac 'n' Cheese from yesterday's lunch. And let's not even mention the actual earwax.

Suddenly I found myself wishing that the dreaded star-shaped barrette was more accessible.

I'm sure that, at this point, you might not believe me if I told you that I really do bathe my child. Frequently, even. But here's the thing: no longer is Garrett a willing participate in the ritual we call washing. He writhes and screams when I shampoo his hair and dodges me while scrambling to the other side of the tub when I attempt to soap up his body. Which, as I'm sure you can imagine, makes ear washing a bit of a challenge.

Today, though, after being completely grossed out by the state of his inner and outer ears, I determined to take matters into my own hands, and I wasn't going to take writhes, screams, or dodges as an answer. I grabbed a warm, wet washcloth, pinned the boy down, and went to work.

All told, the deep cleaning only took a minute or two. (Garrett, though, I'm sure, would like to tell you otherwise.) But at least now they're clean, which is a very good thing considering that it is my lap he'll be sitting on, with his toddler-sized ears directly in view, during tomorrow's flight to Texas.

drop everything and go make these cookies

Seriously.

My friend, Disco Mom, as a part of her month-long mouth-watering Virtual Goody Plate, included a recipe for Surprise Mint Cookies (a.k.a. Junior Mint Meltaways).

You might remember that I love a good surprised-filled cookie. And so last week I went on a quest for Junior Mints. Oddly enough, it took me a few tries before I found a store that actually had Junior Mints in stock (I guess the rest of the neighborhood got a hold of the recipe, too), but I eventually came away victorious.

The cookies are simple to make and delicious to scarf down -- I mean, eat daintily. (On second thought, I really do mean scarf down. They are really, really good.) Think chocolate chip cookie dough, sans the chocolate chips but with instead a Junior Mint hidden inside. The mint melts as it bakes, creating a cookie infused with minty chocolate.

Because my heart just can't leave you here, sitting in your own drool, without sharing the recipe, I will post it below. All kudos for these cookies really should go to Disco Mom, without whose recipe I wouldn't be aware of this little bite of heaven, so if you want to thank her personally, feel free to here. (She also posted pictures, which I, in my eagerness to scarf them down, didn't do.)

Surprise Mint Cookies
a.k.a. Junior Mint Meltaways

3 cups flour

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

1 cup sugar

1/2 cup brown sugar

1 cup butter

2 eggs

1 tsp vanilla

A large box of Junior Mints (movie theater size)

1. Sift together the flour, soda and salt. In a separate bowl cream the sugar, brown sugar and butter until fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time and vanilla and combine well. Add the flour mixture a little at a time and beat until well combined. Chill dough for 2 hours.

2. Preheat oven to 350. Roll the dough into 1 to 1 1/2 inch balls. Make a slight indentation with your thumb and place a Junior mint in it. Use your fingers and thumb to cover the mint with dough. Keep the mint as close to the top of the cookie as you can, just enough to cover with dough. The minty filling will seep down and make the bottom super sticky if it's too low. Even though there is plenty of butter in the dough you should lightly coat your baking sheets with cooking spray in case the bottoms become sticky from the candy.

3. Bake for about 12 minutes until lightly browned. Let cool for about 4-5 minutes on sheets before moving to a cooling rack. Decorate cookies any way you like [DM drizzled melted chocolate chips over the top of hers] or leave plain [I was lazy -- err, I mean too eager to eat them -- and took this route...they're still tasty plain]. Enjoy!

Makes about 3 1/2 dozen (i.e. not nearly enough)

christmas comes early

Late Friday night, just as we were going to bed, Santa stopped by asking if it was all right with us if he dropped by our house a little early this year. Because a) we didn't want to have to bring more gifts back from Texas than was necessary, b) we knew that by celebrating Christmas on Saturday, we'd be guaranteed a white one, and c) who doesn't want Christmas to come early?! we told him sure, why not! So Saturday morning, we led Garrett into a magical living room replete with gifts to unwrap and a fully constructed train set. He couldn't have been happier.


Garrett was a very good boy this year, as evidenced by Santa's gifts. Besides the train set, he got a set of shape sorting blocks, a puzzle, a bead roller coaster, and -- best of all -- a set of wooden building blocks. (Santa even gave us a few more smaller gifts to safe keep until we stuff them in his stocking for the real Christmas Day.) I think it goes without saying that Garrett has been in heaven ever since.

In the afternoon we trekked through slush, ice, snow, and, sadly, local-only trains to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to see the Neapolitan Baroque Creche which is displayed at the base of their annual Christmas tree. Because it's a special exhibit, I wasn't allowed to take my photos. Fortunately for you, however, some, including the one below, can be found online.


While we were there, we also walked through another special exhibit called "The Philippe de Montebello Years: Curators Celebrate Three Decades of Aquisitions." Two of my favorites were Photo: This Is the Color of My Dreams by Joan Miro and Autograph Quilt by Adeline Harris Sears.

The Autograph Quilt was especially interesting. Here's the story behind it from the Met's Online Catalogue:

In 1856, seventeen-year-old Adeline Harris, the daughter of a well-to-do Rhode Island mill owner, conceived a unique quiltmaking project. She sent small diamond-shaped pieces of white silk worldwide to people she esteemed as the most important figures of her day, asking each to sign the silk and return it to her. By the time all the signatures were returned and ready to be stitched into a "tumbling-blocks" patterned quilt, Adeline had amassed an astonishing collection of autographs. Her quilt features the signatures of eight American presidents; luminaries from the worlds of science, religion, and education; heroes of the Civil War; such authors as Charles Dickens and Ralph Waldo Emerson; and an array of prominent artists. Today, the autographs displayed in this beautiful and immaculately constructed quilt provide an intriguing glimpse into the way an educated young woman of the mid-nineteenth century viewed her world.

If Adeline was making an autograph quilt today, I wonder who would sign it.

Since we were nearby, we also took a brief walk through a snowy Central Park. It was beautiful, and a welcome break from the dirty, urban aftermath of a New York City snowstorm. Watching handfuls of kids sled down Cedar Hill only cemented further into me the idea that urban kids are not deprived of a spectacular childhood. Theirs is different, perhaps, but no less fulfilling.

A little cold and exhausted from an adventurous day, we headed home, ate some dinner, and spent a relaxing evening realizing dreams of small-scale archetectural fame.


(I think Blake likes the building blocks as much as Garrett does.)

even old new york was once new amsterdam

I studied history in college because I liked how the discipline explained things. I liked to trace things backwards in order to shed light on the reasons why certain things are the way they are and why certain people behave the way they do. I loved how studying history allowed events from the past to come alive to me in the present. Getting to the root of a moment absolutely thrills me.

Which is perhaps why I thoroughly enjoyed my most recent read: The Island at the Center of the World: The Epic Story of Dutch Manhattan and the Forgotten Colony that Shaped America by Russell Shorto. Like its title suggests, it's the story of the Dutch West India Company trading settlement on and around Manhattan Island and inland up the Hudson River. Based primarily on the official documents recording the colony's settlement and progression, which are currently being translated into modern English from 17th century swirling Dutch script, the book sets out to correct the myth that America's first (and only) roots came from Puritan New England. In fact, the Dutch had already been comfortably settled in the New World about a decade before the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock.

At the center of the story are two principal characters: Adriaen van der Donck, an enlightened young lawyer whose ideas of representative government are more than a century ahead of his time; and his nemesis in the New World, Peter Stuyvesant, the gruff director of the New Netherland colony. The two men were nearly always at odds, one desperately trying to progress the colony's method of government forward, the other fiercely clinging to already well-established traditions. Both, however, along with their fellow settlers, did much to shape America as we know it today.

When you think of 21st century Manhattan, I'm sure you conjure up images of rowdy, multi-ethnic citizens, big business, and a lot of hustle and bustle. When you imagine 17th century Manhattan, do you summon similar images? Because you should. As a major port settlement in a growing global economy, New Amsterdam was geographically suited to not only attract swarthy individuals, but also wealthy traders eager to do business. As word of readily available land and opportunity spread, settlers from all over Europe made their way to New Netherland and put down roots. In Europe, the Netherlands were known for their tolerance of religion, cultures, and ideas, and this tolerance continued on (to a limited 17th century degree) in its North American colony as it attracted Europeans from all walks of life. A walk down a street in New Amsterdam, crossing the paths of busy, determined people with cultures and personal convictions as varied as the throng of trade that passed in and out of the city's ports, would be remarkably similar to a walk through Lower Manhattan today. I find that fascinating, and I have the original Dutch settlers, with their ideas of tolerance and knack for business, to thank for it.


The book was fascinating and surprising readable (i.e. being coined as a "history buff" is not a requirement to enjoy this book), and I highly recommend it. I assure you, too, that Shorto does a much better job of explaining exactly how the Dutch colony helped shape today's America than I ever could. So pick up a copy and give yourself a bit of further education on early American history and how it has created the American culture we know today.

the snowy day

Technically it's not his first snow, but honestly, it might as well be.


For the five minutes we spent outside exploring the snow, he was all wonder and curiosity. And then he got cold. So we decided to finish enjoying it inside.

because everything sounds better with a british accent

Last weekend, after we'd finished rearranging the living room to make way for the piano, we turned on the TV to test the antenna. Saturday Night Live was on, and the skit airing was called "Bronx Beat with Betty and Jodi." For those of you unfamiliar with this SNL segment, here's the gist: two gum-chewing, thick-accented friends from the Bronx host a talk show. The premise may be simple, but the results are hilarious. Here is last Saturday's "Bronx Beat."

People like Betty and Jodi are not limited to the Bronx. I come across their Brooklyn counterparts, accents and all, every day at the grocery store, the laundromat, the bus stop. Though the SNL imitation of them may be a bit exaggerated, it is nonetheless very, very real.

My favorite exchange from the skit?

BETTY: You know what else? British people are so dignified. They have manners.

JODI: Uh-huh. They sound like geniuses.

BETTY: Yeah. I bet the dumbest person in England is smarter than anyone we know.

Couldn't have said it better myself, Betty.


*Thanks, Adam, for finding an embeddable version online!

garrett the carrot, reprise

It appears that Garrett's growth spurt is over, and consequently meal times have become a bit more challenging. No longer is he voraciously stuffing every crumb of food I set before him into his belly. Instead, these days he's eating more and more like a picky little bird (and not the sort of bird that sweetly chirps about an approaching spring; no, this is the sort of bird that incessantly whines about how cold it is). Don't get me wrong -- he's still a sweet boy, despite the teething and the cold which I'm sure have contributed to his waning appetite as well as to his recent edginess. I just wish he'd eat more.*

Take last night, for example. I served a chicken and rice dinner with a side garden salad. The salad had pieces of grated carrot in it which Garrett, of his own accord, figured out how to dip into ranch dressing. Only, once dipped, he wouldn't eat the carrot; instead he'd lick the ranch off, then dip again for more. After several licks and dips, he'd set his used piece of carrot off to the side, select a new one, and begin the process again. He didn't touch anything else on his plate.

So. For those of you just joining us, all my son ate last night of his dinner was ranch dressing.**

Garrett is so weird sometimes. And here is further proof:


Lately, when he's tired or bored, I'll find him curled up with his blanket and binky on any available piece of floor looking as if he's about to conk out. (He hasn't fallen completely asleep yet, though it's bound to happen any time now.) His typical position is on his stomach, knees folded beneath him, with his bottom sticking up in the air, and I have found him thus everywhere from below the kitchen sink (see above) to underneath chairs in the livingroom. So bizarre.

Also? Just the other day he realized that a great place to stick his fingers when they are not otherwise occupied is up his nose. He doesn't pick; he just safekeeps them there. I can't decide if I should be grossed out or charmed by his resourcefulness.


*Though he's eating less food than I thought was normal for him, he does still eat. I'm not worried about him wasting away to wispiness. But it is getting pretty annoying to prepare meals which he's proved to me before that he'll happily eat only to watch him pick at them in disgust. I'm sure this is just one of those toddler phases I've been warned of, but still. It's frustrating.

**Of course, being the sort of mother who doesn't like to send her child to bed on an empty stomach, I offered him an assortment of food which was not on the menu, but which I knew he'd eat at least a little bit of. But just out of curiosity, do you think any nutrients can be derived from licking a carrot? And do kids ever get sick of eating the same old fallback foods over and over again?

i heard a bird sing

I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December
A magical thing
And sweet to remember.

"We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,"
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.

- Oliver Herford

Found in The Random House Book of Poetry for Children, edited by Jack Prelutsky, illustrated by Arnold Lobel

austenbook

About a month ago I got an email from my brother Riley telling me to "get with the times" and sign up for a Facebook account already. After all, if my grandpa could get on Facebook, then, good grief, so could I.

I thought about it for a few days. I had purposely been resisting the whole Facebook trend because I honestly didn't need another reason to be at the computer. I had enough to do. But Riley did have a point. So one quiet evening, while Blake was out of town on business, and I was left with a bit of time to kill, I let myself get sucked in.

After about two feverish days of finding, adding, and confirming friends, I was nearly ready to throw in the towel. Turns out everyone is on Facebook! It's like this exclusive club available to anyone, and it was making me dizzy. I was finding people from my old home ward, from my school years in Provo, friends from Ricks and BYU, Indiana and New York. It's a good thing the friend-adding frenzy died down, giving me the go-ahead to only check into my account on occasion, else I would have taken a big fat pass on membership in the Facebook Club. Which, don't get me wrong -- I do think it's pretty fun to run into people I never thought I'd see again. I'm just also immensely relieved that the initial fervor has calmed down considerably.

The best part about Facebook, though, is that now I can fully appreciate this Pride and Prejudice Facebook News Feed that my friend, Emily, shared with me. If you're a Jane Austen fan, click to read through it. It's hilarious.

dyker lights

There's a quiet neighborhood near us in Brooklyn called Dyker Heights, which for eleven months of the year is sandwiched, and consequently forgotten, between more well-known communities. Every December, however, Dyker Heights lights up the map -- quite literally. For I don't know how many years now (I'd say at least a generation) homeowners in the neighborhood have been decking their halls with blinding Christmas lights and flooding their lawns with oversized ornaments. Over the years it's become quite the show, attracting visitors from around the city.

Last night, we, along with our friends, walked in and out of the streets of Dyker admiring the light show this little community puts on. While most of the decorations were far too extravagant for my tastes, it must be admitted that it was all rather impressive.


From larger-than-life toy soldiers to abominably oversized snowmen -- I've never seen anything quite like this. One yard even had a Dicken's Christmas Carol village, and several homes hired out Santa to sit on their front porch and greet the children.

We introduced Garrett to Santa, and they were real chums -- even exchanging high-fives -- until I tried to set him down on Santa's lap. That's when Garrett decided it'd be better if we all just rethought things. Even so, Santa, with his suspciously thick Brooklyn accent, was kind enough to still give Garrett a glow pop.


Amid all the commercial-tinged decor, there were also a few equally as impressive nativities. We noticed that at almost every single one, though, the Baby Jesus was missing. I'm sure it's just a cultural thing, and I imagine he'll arrive sometime on Christmas. At first it struck me as odd that the most important figure in the creche wasn't there, but the more I've thought about it, the more I realize that waiting until Christmas actually places more emphasis on the reason we celebrate this season. Now it strikes me as more tender and appropriate than anything.

welcome to the family

Yesterday was action-packed, and in all of our activities, we managed to travel by just about every mode of transportation available to a New Yorker. First we rode the subway and a shuttle bus to the Brooklyn IKEA to pick up a few things. Then it was a boat ride via the free IKEA water taxi to Lower Manhattan. Back on the subway again, this time for a ride up to the Times Square area. And then, because of a purchase much too large to carry home, we took a taxi cab back to our apartment. And as if that wasn't enough, we soon got back on another bus for a ride to the church to attend our ward Christmas party.

Busy, busy day. And yet, I wouldn't have had it any other way because yesterday Christmas came early to our house. Yesterday we welcomed a new addition to our family:


I'd like to introduce you all to our brand new digital piano. Beautiful, isn't she? I know I'm in love. Eighty-eight weighted keys, beautiful grand piano sound, and more better-than-I-could-ever-play-them classical demo songs than I ever dreamed of having. What more could a girl ask for? (Okay, she could ask for a real piano, but this is about as real as it's gonna get for us so long as we're living in narrow-stairwelled New York City walk-up apartments.)

Like any new addition to the family, this one called for some adjustments -- specifically in the form of a total livingroom makeover. For those of you who knew what the arrangement was before might be interested in the following photos of what it looks like now.

Because the couch no longer rests against a wall, the room has a more cozy feel to it. I actually like this new arrangment better. All rearranging took place last night after Garrett went to bed and the bewildered-yet-pleased look on his face when he walked into the livingroom this morning was absolutely priceless.

And speaking of Garrett, he loves the new piano as much as Blake and I do. He is especially fond of the bass side, which, he quickly learned, produces more effective sounds than when pounding on the treble side. We knew before bringing it home that there would be certain and strict rules regarding this piano, and we've already had to enforce some of them. I imagine this first little while will be rough going for him as he learns what's okay and what's not, but soon enough he'll catch on.

Ooh, I'm so anxious to go tickle those ivories -- I've been away from a piano and out of practice for far too long.

twirling

It's an art, and I'm pretty sure Garrett has perfected it.

indoor entertainment

Yesterday the sun didn't shine, and it was too wet to play, so we camped out inside the whole cold, cold wet day. Besides, Garrett was both a little feverish and a little phlegmy, which only confirmed my desire to stay away from the building winter storm outside.

But we were not bored, oh no, not bored at all. There was plenty to do -- for the tall and the small.

While I tended to a bit of Primary business, Garrett redecorated the bookshelves, moving his collection of board books, one at a time, from one shelf to a growing tower on another.

While I copied down some recipes I'd like to try, Garrett stuffed his food down the back of his shirt (more of which I discovered later during a diaper change). While I worked to prepare the food that would ultimately tickle his backside, he waved vigorously to the picture of the Gerber Baby plastered all over the box of rice cereal that was sitting on the counter. While I ate my tuna fish sandwich at lunch, Garrett offered me bites of his tater tots.



And while I put the finishing touches on a few Christmas gifts, Garrett carried on a pretend phone call, making sure to include plenty of cordial hellos and a handful of appropriate conversational pauses. I don't have a photo or video to serve as a companion to my description, but envision with me, if you will, a busy Lindsay, buried in wrapping paper, Scotch tape, and curling ribbon, listening to Garrett jabber on like he is often wont to do. Noticing that his gibberish sounds as if it has more purpose than usual, she looks up to find her son engrossed in conversation with heaven knows who (Dad? Grandma?), the Buzz Lightyear cell phone slung casually over his shoulder (the closest to his ear that it ever gets).

I laughed. Good and hard. And then I asked him who he was talking to, to which he responded by ditching the phone altogether in favor of thumbing through his favorite wildflower guidebook.

It was a good day. Cold, wet rain and all.

christmas cookies

Last week I was nearly swept off my feet by the sudden desire to bake Christmas cookies. But because I was was so crazy-hardly-had-time-to-blink busy, I had to control the urge to go wild in the kitchen until this week when I was less dizzy. Which ended up working out fantastically because more time to plan = the ability to cook with good company. Emily and Elizabeth came over and together (well, technically only Emily...Elizabeth snoozed the afternoon away) we baked and decorated sugar cookies. There were gingerbread cookies involved as well, but those were made beforehand (there's only so much cookie-creating room in my little kitchen).

In case you, too, are overwhelmed by the holiday itch to bake sweet things, here are the recipes we used. (I'm no Disco Mom, whose month-long virtual goody plate is absolutely mouth-watering, but it's a start anyway.) The gingerbread is the Nauvoo recipe which the sweet sisters serving in the Scovil bakery give out like fliers on a NYC street corner. It is delicious and, were it not so freely given to me, I'd want to keep it secretly to myself. The sugar cookies, on the other hand, are nothing special. Don't get me wrong -- they turned out delicious. But it doesn't boast any exotic ingredients that make it better than all others. I just found it in a ward cookbook I was given once upon a time as a wedding gift. The icing recipe was courtesy of the box of powdered sugar.

Nauvoo Gingerbread Cookies

1 cup sugar
1 cup molasses
3/4 cup oil or lard
1/2 cup hot water

Combine, rinse molasses from cup with hot water. Then add:

2 eggs

Mix together the following and add to wet ingredients:

1 tsp soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 heaping tsp ginger (or 2 tsp)
2 tsp cinnamon
6 or 7 cups white flour (may use 1/3 whole wheat)

Use more flour if necessary. Refrigerate dough (preferably overnight). Roll out and cut with cookie cutter. Bake at 350 for 10 minutes. (Apparently these cookies freeze well and are softer and more flavorful after freezing. I've never tried it myself, but I have no reason to doubt the missionaries at the Scovil Bakery.)

Sugar Cookies

1 cup sugar
1/2 cup margarine
2 eggs, beaten
1/2 tsp vanilla
1 tbsp milk
2 1/4 cups sifted flour
1/4 tsp salt
2 tsp baking powder

Cream margarine and sugar together. Add eggs, vanilla, and milk. Add sifted dry ingredients. Roll out and cut. Bake at 350 for 11-12 minutes. Frost and decorate.


Domino Buttercream Frosting

1 1-lb pkg Domino confectioner's sugar
1/2 cup butter or margarine, softened
3-4 tbsp milk
1 tsp vanilla

Combine in large bowl, with mixer at low speed, sugar, milk, and vanilla. Beat at medium speed 1-2 minutes until creamy. If desired, add more milk until frosting is spreading consistency.

(I couldn't resist, seeing as Texas will be "home for the holidays" this year.)

What Christmas treats will you be baking this year? (Gold stars for you if you, too, share recipes.)

an apple a day

Normally he waits for me to cut and peel his apples, but I guess this time the anticipation was just too much.

christmas in the city

There is nothing quite like the Christmas season in New York City. On every corner there is something (usually brightly lit and grandiose) to remind you of the approaching holidays. We have spent the last few days partaking of the cheer. Here's a bit of what we've seen:

Saturday evening was spent traipsing (and by "traipsing," I of course mean "pushing and shoving our way through enormous crowds" -- this is Manhattan at Christmas time, remember?) down Fifth Avenue to look at the decorated holiday windows. We met up with our friends, Adam, Emily, and Baby Elizabeth on a subway platform in Brooklyn and rode the train together up to the southern tip of Central Park. It was a festive occasion, this being Elizabeth's very first visit to Manhattan. First stop above ground was the Plaza Hotel, where we were met with grandeur as we visited both the restrooms and Elouise.

Bundled up, we next began our trip south down Fifth Avenue. We visited the holiday windows at Bergdorf Goodman, Tiffany's, Cartier, Saks, Lord & Taylor, and, over an avenue on Broadway, Macy's. On the way we stopped for the traditional honey roasted peanuts, a peek at the Rockefeller tree, a view of the Saks snowflakes, and a breather (for the sake of the two cold, hungry children) at the publishing house where Adam works as a graphic designer.

I snapped a bazillion more pictures than this, which, if you'd like to see them, can be found in my collection of December photos on the sidebar.

The evening was perfectly capped off with a light, wispy snowfall tickling our noses just as we came out of the subway back home in our neighborhood. To our delight, Garrett was delighted, and spent the remaining walk home trying to grab snowflakes.

Blake had one vacation day he needed to either use or lose by the end of the year, so he took Monday off and we continued our Christmas adventures in the city. We stopped at Bryant Park to wander through the holiday shops set up around the perimeter of the skating rink. It was even colder than Saturday night, which made for a beautiful frozen fountain and an adorable frozen little boy.

We were unsuccessful in our attempts to a) purchase Christmas gifts for Garrett (the Times Square Toys R Us is awesome if you want a "wow" factor, but not so helpful if you're actually toy shopping), and b) buy an affordable and small Christmas tree. At least there's still internet shopping and a tree waiting in Texas for us to enjoy later.

There are still a few more things we'd like to do in the city before the Christmas season is over, including the Holiday Train Show and Light Show at Grand Central, a visit to see Santa at Macy's, and a family trip to see the stately homes in Dyker Heights all extravagantly decked out and lit up for Christmas. Assuming we can squeeze these activities in, I'm sure you'll be hearing about them before too much longer, so stay tuned.

can-tastic!

Yesterday Garrett and I trekked to the World Financial Center in Lower Manhattan to see a food drive exhibit called Canstruction. On the second level of the Winter Garden we were privy to a few dozen sculptures created entirely out of canned food. Walking around the gallery was like walking through a Magic Eye book: up close all we could see was tuna fish and tomato sauce, but once we took a few steps back, everything became much more interesting. And to top it off, once the exhibit comes down in a few days, all of those thousands of cans will be donated to City Harvest. Talk about two beautiful birds with one stone.

My question, though, is why hasn't the Relief Society been informed of this creative way to store canned food? I mean, seriously! Who wouldn't turn down an artistic centerpiece that can simultaneously be used in your one-year supply of food storage? Come on, ladies! Let's get on this! Here are a few ideas to get your wheels turning:

So, I don't know about you, but I've got some canned soups to reorganize.

he's got rhythm, he's got music

We've been doing a lot of dancing at our house lately:

All that foot tapping, head bopping, knee bouncing, and twirling around makes us sorta dizzy, and sometimes we bump into things:

(Go ahead -- watch that one again. And again. I do. And I crack up every time.)

when we weren't raking leaves