Noted

Last month, my ears never perked up to the sounds of the sort of amusing student commentary that I collect for my entertainment and amusement. But November has delivered the funny and thus I present this month's overheard commentary.

"Where did you come up with this drug?" (Lest this place my school in a poor light, I hasten to note it was said in reference to a snack item obtained from the vending machines)

"Stop licking my computer."

And a conversation:
Student X: "If we save the environment, we cannot profit from it."

Student Y: "You suck, man."

And finally, me when speaking to student Z, who violated my no smelly food in the classroom policy:
"Dude, that chalupa smells."
This line got a lot of unexpected laughter from the students.  I think that they were surprised I knew Student Z was eating a chalupa.  But I did and he was.

Also of note: My new No Taco Bell in the classroom policy.

Report From the Front

Each year, come the fall, JT's copy of the year's Playmobil catalog gets a bit shopworn, as he contemplates which of the toys will make his Christmas list.  He does this in preparation for the December arrival of the Man in Red.

Serving as an agent of the Man, I make sure to know just which items the boy is most desirous of.  Then, on Black Friday, when he heads off to what's her bucket's for her "parenting time," I gin up and head off to the mall.

I face the mall on Black Friday because the Playmobil store offers a 25% off sale, thus permitting the Man in Red to stay on-budget for the holiday season.  It's worth it.  Really.  I swear.

There was a time in my life when I enjoyed shopping.  But these days, I'm the commando guerrilla of shopping.  I go with a mission; I get in and then I get out with the goods. The goal is speed and efficiency in acquisition.

So it was with today's mission to Playmobil.  I was in and out of the store in less than 30 minutes.  I did pause as I walked through Sears on my way to Playmobil when I heard a voice announce that free stainless steel knives would be available at Level II next to the Christmas tree by the escalator...one per customer.

Is it advisable to hand out free knives at the mall on Black Friday?  We live in New Jersey, for heaven's sake.  I cannot be the only person who thinks free knives in this situation is a very bad idea. 

Needless to say, I moved right along.

Thankful

We had a small Thanksgiving feast at our house this year.  That has its advantages in that the holiday normally features a turkey....and with all respect to the bird, I prefer my turkeys alive.  I just can't get behind roasted turkey.  I will say that when called upon, I do make a kiss-ass bird.  But, in all truth....blah.  Just not my favorite.  JT could care less, of course.  So this year, we skipped the bird.

On the Thanksgiving fixins front, however, I excel.  So we enjoyed an all-veggies-all-the-time holiday.  By which I actually mean that I enjoyed the veggies (and I'm already looking forward to the leftovers).  JT maintains his no-veggies-any-of-the-time policy.  Sigh.

On the table:
- cheese & apple tray: Camembert, gorgonzola dip (somebody likes that with his potato chips...and no holiday would be worth celebrating without chips), and sharp cheddar.  Lest you suggest these were inauthentic choices, let me be clear: it's a little known fact the the Pilgrims enjoyed Camembert and potato chips at the first Thanksgiving feast.  You can trust me on this because I am an American History teacher.

- olives, of course (though JT was unswayed by my request that he put them on his finger tips, like I did when I was a kid)

- roasted brussels sprouts

- roasted carrots

- potato souffle (OMG, this is the best recipe ever)

- creamed spinach (my new go-to food)

- cornbread dressing (SO MUCH BETTER than the dreaded stuffing)

- rosemary rolls (note: JT did eat his weight in these...he worried that the nine rolls I made for the two of us would not be sufficient)

- cranberry sauce (homemade, with fresh New Jersey cranberries.....recipe to follow)

Pumpkin pie is slated for the dessert table.  For reasons inexplicable to me, the boy loves pumpkin pie.  He asked for it tentatively, as if such a pie was so delicious that it must require hours of kitchen labor.  It is homemade, OF COURSE.  But it didn't exactly sap my lifeblood to stir it up. 

The best part of the meal is that moment when we pause to say a blessing for that which makes us thankful.  I have too many blessings to count but at the table today we were thankful for our warm and happy home, for our cats and for each other.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!

Real Life Conversations with JT: Irony edition

The backstory: Each week, JT takes a spelling test at school.  His Sassafras genes aren't much help in this regard, as I am a dreadful speller.  So we practice the words and hope for the best.  This week, the spelling test was on Monday.  That meant an extra weekend to study...though in his case we were in Washington D.C. with the Model Congress team and we were not entirely responsible in our study habits. 

JT:  I got my spelling test back today.

Mama:  Oh yeah?  How'd you do?

JT:  I made a 90; I got 2 words wrong.

Mama:  That's pretty good.  What words did you miss?

JT:  Resources and literacy.

That figures.

Well Traveled

I drive a mama car.  I've got some clever stickers and it's a nice shiny silver color but at heart I must admit the truth: it's a mama car.  At any given moment, it's filled with the sorts of stuff a mama might need.  In the spring, I'm carrying baseballs and a bat.  In the summer, I've got sticks and extra bottles of water.  In the fall, you'll find a soccer ball.  And when the weather might be good enough to be outdoors, I've got my two folding chairs.

I bought the chairs in 2002 to take to a trip to visit a lake in South Dakota.  And since then, I've carried these chairs all over the place.  They've been to numerous beaches in New Jersey.  They've been camping at Cape Cod.  They sit out by the local pool in the summer.  And they have accompanied me to countless sports events.  If I've got a chair and a book, I'll happily go just about anywhere.

The soccer season ended a few weeks ago; it's still too soon for baseball practice.  And so I've placed the faithful chairs in the garage, to hibernate for the winter and rest up for the next season.

Fruitful

The other day, my friend E announced that she was eating more fruits and vegetables.  She blamed me and, for now, I'll accept responsibility for this dubious decision of hers.  But only because she bought a bunch of apple pears and has since decided that they are not to her taste.  So I have been the recipient of the rejected fruit.

I like it.

My extensive research (I asked some students also eating free-fruit from E) confirms that this fruit is most often known as an Asian Pear.   That's one of those 1970s-ish names ----- an attempt to be exotic that  now sounds sketchy.  The apple-pear has the firm feel and look of an apple but the gritty (and sometimes soft) texture of a pear.  It's an appleish pear with thicker skin.  Or a pearish apple?  Anyway, it was sweet,  juicy, and tasty.  I think that this fruit should get a more exotic name, up the price, and try to lure Whole Foods onto the gravy train of fruit sales.

Household Happiness: JT's Bedroom

Though I'm often surprised to realize it was that long ago, ten years ago this fall I was getting a room ready for a baby.   I chose art that was a bit unusual for a nursery.  Rather than go for babyish things, I wanted a room that could grow up with the baby.  I started by framing some photos I'd bought from an artist at a craft fair, probably in Nashville, though I can't be sure.  I do recall that I'd had the pictures long before my baby was expected and when I knew that I was pregnant, I planned the room around them.  One of the pictures is of a small red chair at a table. 

The other is of a blue-spotted bowl.

For the better part of the pregnancy, the gender of my babine was unknown.  But in late November an ultrasound revealed all.   Soon after, I bought and framed a poster illustrated by the same artist who drew the covers for the Harry Potter books sold in the United States.  The poster, a picture of a boy astride his bike, riding through the sky with a backpack filled with books on his back, was just what I imagined when I thought of my boy.  I spent a lot of that pregnancy idly wondering what kind of person my baby would be.  But about one thing, I was confident: I would teach him to love stories.

When I brought home my barely 8 pound baby and showed him the pictures in his room I could hardly imagine that I would some day have such a big boy.  But the evidence suggests that's exactly what I've got these days.  The poster and the pictures still hang in the room where JT sleeps.  It's not a nursery anymore, of course.  The blue walls and the wide, white-trimmed windows are the room of a busy, imaginative boy.

At night, just before I go to bed, I check on the boy sleeping in this room. Most nights, I can see a shadow of the baby he once was in the soft curve of his cheek.  And big boy that he is, he'll always be my baby.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Reality Check edition

The backstory: The other day, JT came home from school with a sculpture he had made in art class. He was quite pleased with his project and eager to show it off.

JT:   I call it the Roller Coaster of Doom.  How do you like it?

Mama:  It's cool.  Why is it called the Roller Coaster of Doom?

JT: Well look at it.  Would you like to ride on it?

Clearly my powers of observation are not what they could be.

Food Friday: White Cheese

Since he was a very little boy, JT has loved white cheese on a cracker.  What he calls white cheese is actually boursin, a creamy soft cheese, usually flavored with garlic and spices.  At the grocery store a cup of it will run you $4 or $5.  I don't know about y'all, but that's a bit too costly for me to pick up on a regular basis.  My version is easy to make and inexpensive.  On top of that, it tastes terrific.  Try it and I promise that you will never buy the the store version again.

When I make it, I serve it with crackers or crusty french bread.  It's a guaranteed crowd pleaser.

The Recipe
1 brick of cream cheese, softened to room temperature
1 clove of garlic, finely minced
1 tablespoon each dried oregano and dried basil
1/4 teaspoon of black pepper
1 tablespoon half and half

Place all the ingredients in a bowl.

Now get out your hand mixer.  Set the mixer on high and whip the cheese for 3 minutes.  This will whip in a lot of air, making the cheese light and creamy.

Using a spatula, place the creamy cheese in a smaller bowl to serve. 

Leftovers (if you have any) should be refrigerated.  Enjoy!

Short Pants

When JT was little, he used to call shorts "short pants."  He loved wearing them and the arrival of cooler weather (and long pants) was an unwelcome development.   But he would generally put on whatever clothes I set out and the transition from short to long pants was thus accomplished.

These days, he's still mostly willing to wear whatever clothes I set out for him.  But he does have one fashion rule: all shorts, all the time.  I am convinced that he would wear shorts in the dead of winter if I would let him.  You'd recognize him everywhere as the child with a heavy coat, hat, gloves, and shorts.  The problem with this arrangement is the troubled looks I receive from other parents and teachers when my child cruises to school in long sleeves, a jacket, and shorts.

Yesterday, I announced that it was cold enough to wear pants.  He grudgingly pulled them on and then spent the rest of the morning fanning himself from the excess heat my sartorial ruling brought on.

It's pants again today (the forecast high is 53 degrees).  I imagine that JT will need a glass of ice water to cope with the heat exhaustion this decision will bring on.

Update: My friend Mollie reports that her brother uses the word pants as a substitute derogatory, as in "That is so pants" when something is no good.  Sounds like new vocab for the Sassafras House.