Christmas Recap

Well, it was quite a weekend. We had the in-laws, Mae Ni and Khun Pung, for their first ever Christmas celebration. They came by train (and bus, truck taxi, and motorcycle) from Trat Province, through Bangkok and on up to Chiang Mai. They made an overnight stop with Amnat's sister Taan in Bangkok, who sadly couldn't make the trip this time. We made it worth their while. But of course, they'd cross continents (if visas weren't so #$&! hard for Thai people to get) just to be with Jimmy.


Christmas morning started with a hot bowl of "joak." It's a Thai breakfast standard, and with a (slight) chill in the air in Chiang Mai this week, it was warming and lovely. Think pounded rice soup in a pork stock with pork balls, fresh ginger, and green onion.


Mae Ni and Khun Pung are always happier outside, since they are farmers, so they had their joak on the front porch. And, yes, Mae Ni IS wearing a bath towel. We are all sadly underequipped for a chilly spell, and bath towels make great outerwear!


Since we were all VERY good this year, Santa treated us nice. Khun Pung and Mae Ni opened their first ever stockings and caught on right away. Mae Ni dumped hers out and started upwrapping, and when Khun Pung dumped his nearby, she swept her goodies in close with the quick reflexes of a seven-year-old.


It was after breakfast that things got a little out of hand. After the showering and dressing, Mae Ni and Khun Pung went off for massages at our friend Jo's shop. Amnat and I headed out with the stroller for a coffee and iced chocolate and a little last minute bakery run. And, I vaguely remember as we sauntered out the gate, my sister-in-law quietly asking something like, "shouldn't we be chopping vegetables or something?" It was in Thai, so I didn't catch most of it.


After making our leisurely rounds with Jimmy in his Santa suit getting smiles and waves from every motorbike in town, we roll back in the gate at about 2:00, and I'm thinkin' "let's open presents!" My sister-in-law is now looking quite serious, and says again, "you want me to chop something?" Ok, this time, it sinks in. As you know already (if you are a faithful reader, TWELVE people for dinner at 4:00!). So, Nok and Nong and I hurl ourselves at a huge pile of vegetables, fruit and flowers, while Amnat settles Jimmy for a little nap.


Again, faithful reader, you will recall the muttering husband ("why didn't we do this yesterday?"), to which Nok (quietly) replies, "Bon yert, tamgan nit noi." Sorry, that was Thai. "Complains a lot, works a little." (She can be quite funny, even when hacking at something with a machete.)


My dear friend Nong wanted to experience a true American style Christmas, so she slept over and rolled up her sleeves with the rest of us. I thought she'd be great at doing some special flower arranging for the party, but I had to pull her off flowers and get her to help mash potatoes with a drinking glass at the last minute. She looked a little dazed by the experience, but isn't that part of Christmas too?


We posed for pictures, looking cool and collected and having completely forgotten about opening our presents!


The party guests lined up for a photo op with the little elf.


Khun Poo (Grampa) and Khun Yaa (Grammy) were grinning from ear to ear all day. And, during dinner, I got more than one thumbs-up across the grass mat from my mother-in-law. She found a dried fig on her plate and was a little puzzled. When assured that it was fruit, another thumbs-up. As the whole thing was eventually winding down, she asked me, "Mee quam sook mai?" Are you happy? Like it was about me being happy. Very sweet, indeed.


Of course, gifts were exchanged, but with a twist. Everyone brought something nice, but the Khunchamnan's seeded the gift pile with a couple of gag gifts. Then, we took numbers, took gifts, opened them. Red faces in a couple of places. Gawp got sexy little black undies (which she could probably wear on one leg), and Khun Pung got a year's supply of toilet paper. Then, the fun really began. We drew numbers again and went round from low to high taking the gift we REALLY wanted. An electric sandwich maker jumped from person to person until Jomsi managed to hold onto it. And, sweetly, when it was Khun Pung's turn to have anything he wanted, he opted to keep his toilet paper. Mae Ni told me later, they could really use it (not in the bathroom, of course, but that's a story for another day.)


Little was a trooper throughout. No fussing. Just rosey cheeked and beaming in his little red suit.


And, just before rolling off to bed, the Khunchamnan's FINALLY opened their gifts. Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Turkey Tales

Ok. So, recently you heard me toot my own horn about being on top of my game (figured out how to upload vdo). Well, yesterday I completely dropped the ball (got to get in as many idioms as possible, as my peeps here just don't get it).

I invite TWELVE people for Christmas dinner. We have exactly ONE small toaster oven, ONE wok burner, and .... well, that's about it. What the hell was I thinking! I wasn't, clearly. And, it didn't hit me (hard) until 2 pm, with everyone due to arrive at 4 pm. Even with the Thai total disregard for clock-time, I suddenly realized I was up the proverbial creek. Luckily, I had two paddles - my dear sister-in-law Nok and my equally dear friend Nong. They stepped up the usual Thai-mindfulness-pace and chopped the vegetables, arranged the flowers, and set the table (well, floor actually) in record time. My (dear) husband just kept saying - why didn't we do this yesterday? Good question. Particularly for a Thai person who never plans ahead. (It seems to be catching.)

Anyway, it all came off beautifully. With not a grain of rice in sight, my Thai family and friends cheerfully ate Waldorf salad, duck with cranberry-orange glaze, mashed potatoes (with a precious dollop of sour cream!), and carrot salad. A word on the carrot salad. We have here the most gorgeous fresh coconut and pineapple. Wow, what a carrot salad. We even had a respectable (bakery-made) apple pie for dessert. It was lovely, as you can see. (If you want to see more, click the More Pam's Pix link in a day or so.)


All of this holiday food wrangling reminded me of another story that I gave my family a couple of Thanksgivings ago. It's a turkey tale, and in my family turkey makes an appearance at both Thanksgiving and Christmas (when you've just barely choked down the last of the Thanksgiving leftovers). So, having made in through another Christmas weekend, I offer you a little tale about holidays past. Make that holiday repasts.

. . . . .

I love my family, but they are terrible cooks, every last one of them. And, their attention for dinner conversation is short. Holidays at home are always buffet served on Corelle from the Formica island in my aunt’s kitchen. The eating, because it is eating, rather than dining, is dispatched with quickly, so the day is mostly cooking and cleaning up with big doses of t.v. for added distraction.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my people. I love that total lack of pretension. Actually it is distain for pretension. And, I love the card games after dinner. Was a time that cards also meant cigarettes and whiskey, but those days are gone. Now it’s just cards. Competitive, chicks-only cards at the kitchen table. The young men sometimes get suckered into a hand or two, but the old guys know better.

I do have vivid memories of my grandmother preparing the Thanksgiving turkeys. The night before, a big store-bought frozen bird would get set down into the scrubbed stainless steel sink for an over-night soak. In the morning, early, the stuffing preparation would begin; because it takes all day to cook a turkey until the meat has fallen-off-the-bone, my grandmother’s doneness standard. I should clarify. Fallen-off-the-bone means, in fact, meat desiccated to the point that it shrinks away from the bones under a layer of whisper-thin, cracked skin. This solves any problem of the bacteria brewed in the over-night bath.

Stuffing pre-preparation actually began a week or so before, with the drying out of the bread. Sun Beam Bread set around on baking sheets and air-dried until slightly curled. You see, there was a desiccation theme. First thing Thanksgiving morning the cast aluminum meat grinder came out of its cardboard box and got clamped to the kitchen table. A big mixing bowl was set under it, and the bread and a couple of peeled raw onions brought to the table. And, now the fun part. In rapt attention with my nose right at the edge of the mixing bowl, I watched my grandmother turn dry bread into bread dust moistened with essence of ground onion. There was a fear factor which held my fascination. I’m sure I was warned against fingers in the hopper, yet she pushed and poked that dry bread and those wet onions dangerously close, it seemed to me, to that grinding mechanism. Sometimes I would turn the handle for her, and I loved the sound of the meat grinder chewing up that dusty bread. You could almost feel it scratching the back of your throat.

For flavor, my grandmother would sprinkle her stuffing dust sparingly with Bell’s Poultry Seasoning, the little yellow box with the turkey on the front. And, then the most graphic part of all. The bird was lifted from its bath, and with the back of a big spoon, my grandmother packed that stuffing dust into that bird, and I mean packed. Packed so tight, that many hours later at the table, she had to shave that stuffing out of that bird the way you shave hard ice cream out of its tub.

It was never my favorite part of dinner, the stuffing; but I loved to watch her make it. So, this year, as I plump organic raisins in Spanish port before making my dried fig and cranberry compote, I’ll remember all the wonderful lessons about the pitfalls of pretension that I learned from my family.

A Christmas Story

I wrote this story for my brothers two Christmasses ago, and I thought I should "re-gift" it this year. Since writing it, Santa has come back into my life after a long hiatus. We're busy making happy Christmas memories for our little guy, and though he won't remember his first Christmas, we will always.

P.S. Aunt Kappi Rocks! The Santa suit (with real plush velour) is to die for!


I am the oldest of three, and so I was the first to come to doubt Santa. But, I do remember the last Christmas that I wanted to believe, and so do my brothers, even now.

In our family, we had a tradition. Christmas eve dinner at the living room coffee table featuring Mom’s once-a-year seafood casserole. Pretty simple really; mayonnaise, heavy cream, buttered bread cubes, chopped boiled eggs, a can of crabmeat, and a fist full of frozen shrimp (we are WASP's, obviously). And, she sprinkled the top with more bread cubes and melted butter, before putting it into the oven (I know, but it was the '70's). We loved it. And, there were side dishes. Chex party mix, chips and dip, popcorn balls, and homemade cookies with M & M stains baked into the dough. Actually, I remember feeling like throwing up on more than a few Christmasses, but I never put it to the Christmas eve dinner (not 'til now, anyway).

Mom was great with decorations too, which went up the day after Thanksgiving. Lots of “arrangements” on all available horizontal surfaces. She got the lingo from selling Home Interiors, Italian baroque injection-molded plastic items (which they cleverly called "syrocco"). She peddled the stuff at home parties (again, it was the '70's). The Christmas “arrangements” consisted of ceramic dancing angel trios balancing votive cups improbably on their heads, plastic mini-garlands wrapped around pillar candles, and tiny (empty) wrapped packages set (precisely) at random among more plastic garland. But, our three Christmas stockings were never part of the "arrangements." They were always held in reserve until Christmas eve.

After dinner, we were allowed to open one present. This was the second part of the tradition. It was always new pajamas. We ripped them open, and then put them on. They were a little scratchy, having come directly from the plastic packaging, but that was just part of the deal. After the ritual pajama opening, it was time to hang the stockings, the third part of the tradition. As the evening drew to a close, we each strategically placed our stockings for maximum impact. And, I gave mine an extra tug, to be sure the weight of the goods wouldn’t pull it to the floor.

Santa was very clever with our stockings. I noticed some kids at school got socks and soap in theirs. Filler. Ours were filled with precious little treasures, and none of them were ever wrapped. He seemed to wrap some kid’s gifts, which initially puzzled me. In our house there was a clear demarcation. Santa’s booty was unwrapped. Mom and Dad’s was wrapped, labeled, and bowed.

By the time I was ten, my brothers were seven and four. That winter at school, I couldn’t avoid hearing that Santa was a scam, and I could see it was probably true. I didn’t let on to my mother, thinking it would only disappoint her, and why interrupt the flow of gifts at this juncture? So, that year after hanging our stockings, we all went off to bed a little on the early side, as usual. In the middle of the night, I woke up and decided to get my brothers up too. I wanted them and all their tingling excitement in my room with me on this last Christmas, when I would rather have believed.

On our way back to my room, one of my brothers whispered, “Do you think he came yet?” We tiptoed to the top of the stairs leading down to the family room (yes, a split-level, I repeat - it was the '70's). The house was dark, and I opened my eyes wide and stared into the black. It was then I saw it. And, they did too at the exact same moment. We bolted to my bedroom without a word. When we were out of earshot of the family room, I asked, “Did you see it? Santa’s hat?” The white pompom on his red hat floated through the deep darkness of the basement family room as clear as day. And, we had all seen it. We lay there in agony, not sure if he had seen us and decided to skip us over that year.

With much debate, we realized we had no choice but to wait until morning. After fitful sleep, mercifully morning came. We got Mom and Dad up at about five (another tradition) and headed for the family room. He had come, and he had left us his beautiful unwrapped booty.

Santa made many more visits to our house, before my youngest brother gave up believing; but none of those visits would ever be as sweet to me or my brothers as the year we saw Santa Claus.

Sit

On Sunday, Amnat and I plopped Little down in front of the tree for some documentation of his most recent accomplishment, sitting!


Well, I didn't say that he was particularly accomplished at this particular accomplishment, did I?


At least, he was good-natured about the whole thing. Flopped over, no fuss.

Today is Tuesday, and he's mastered the art of sitting in the last two days. Wish I could still learn that fast. He's gonna catch up with me pretty quick, at this rate.

At Last, Video!

Been moaning for weeks about being too stupid (and tired) to figure out how to do it, and it was only about three buttons to push after all. How cool is this! I'm feeling quite on top of my game, I must say. Enjoy Little's video debut.

Six Months On

Jimmy's six month birthday on the 11th came right on the heels of Amnat's birthday, a double celebration (and a good excuse to order up a Western-style cake!). That night Jimmy rolled from back to front. Another notch on his belt. He's starting to feel like a little boy. Wiggly and strong. Not the little bundle we brought home, for sure. Don't know how my 42-year-old self is going to keep up with him. Eating my Wheaties (well, lots of rice, anyway).

Spot the Potential Lawsuit 3

Thai people, like my kin of New England ancestry, have a can-do attitude. It's not really about DOING much, it's more along the lines of "use it up - wear it out - make do (heard that a lot growing up) - or do without." And, with this in mind, I offer you this week's Potential Lawsuit of the vehicular variety (another vast and limitless category).

I call this one, the "make-do hitch." Old rope, rubber strips cut from some old inner tubing, a little spit ... you know. If duct tape weren't so "spendy," it would be on there for sure. Tapin' that cart right to the damn seat.


Another favorite "make-do" hitch is to sit you wife down on an old rice bag folded around the pull-bar of your cart. Works great, but lose the cart, lose the wife! No fuss. No one's gonna sue you over it, or anything.

Come to the Table

Been a little under the weather lately, but I'm back in the blogger seat with a batch of new photos. The last couple of weeks have been just loaded with baby firsts, the most exciting of which is FOOD!



Baby Eats Food Day 1

So, the (prevailing) theory goes like this - feed Little the same thing at each meal for four days. Reason - identifying food allergies. Sort of "clearing" foods for consumption. And, begin with soft and squishy like avocado. Thus, baby's first meal (on a purpose-built plate, no less).



Mum finds the whole thing very exciting. Baby is bemused.



Paw gives it a go too. Little begs for avocado mercy.

At this juncture, Amnat opines, "I think he does not like Colorado."

To which I can only reply, "How would we know? He's never been to Colorado." (I know I shouldn't, but he just keeps handing them to me.)

Baby Eats Food Day 3



Little - HOW often do you expect me to do this?!?



Having cleared baby for Avocado Contact Dermititis, anyway, we move on.


Baby Eats Food Day 5



A whole new day. BANANA! Little actually eats. No gagging. No tearing up. No shuddering. Makes happy bubbly noises. Gums it a bit and gets it down.

PS. Day 6 at breakfast the sound of the mashing fork elicits giggles. We did it!

The Big-Boy Tub

On Monday, Jimmy will be six months old, and Amnat and I are starting to see how far we've come in a short time.



In the beginning, bath time was such a freak-out that no one was thinkin' "let's take pictures!" It was an all-hands-on-deck, white knuckle ride. Nok got this picture at about three weeks (frightening to even recall). But we've suddenly realized we've gone from this ...



to this! Sitting up in the big-boy tub (well, we call it a tub - it's really a glorified bucket, but we can't be too choosy.) It's a squealy splash-fest, but the floors are tropical hardwood, so who gives a damn!



And, oh those floaty balls are so interesting.

Baby Teeth!

Yesterday we spotted them, and today we (almost) got a picture of them. But, for sure, it's BABY TEETH! On Sunday we're going to give some food a try. Oh, boy!

You Gotta Laugh, or You'd Just Cry

Today, Jimmy and I rolled back from Coffee 4 U (a favorite) with one-to-go in a bag for Amnat. So, I get home and Amnat's on a break from teaching. I say, "Coffee 4 U has some new decorations. Jimmy really liked the new wind chimes."

(blank stare)

"You know 'wind chimes'?" I say.

"No."

"You hang them in the front of your house. When the wind blows, they move and make a beautiful sound."

"Food?" he says.

So, I'm thinkin' like freakin' fettuccine flappin' in the wind?!? Some days you just gotta laugh, otherwise you'd cry.

For Two

So, today I said to my husband, "Amnat, I found some baby shoes for Jimmy at the store."

My husband says, "You bought them?"

I say, "Yes."

He says, "How much?"

I say, "159 baht."

He says, "For two?"

And, the thing is, he's not kidding.

I Know, Coffee Obsessed

You know how I love it, as I go on and on about it; but ain't it beeeautiful? Small things here are just so lovely (it's the big things that assault one's aesthetic senses (all of them) more on that later, surely).



These lovely moments were enjoyed on Saturday morning in a little shop we have just discovered called Tiida Coffee. The shop is wee, but the machines cranking out the brew are serious.

Chatting with the owner, we learned (well, we came right out and asked) that she paid the equivalent of $500 for her coffee grinder and more than $1500 for her (amazing) Italian espresso machine. To give you some perspective on these ridiculous figures, our monthly rent is $175 (3-bedroom, two-story, two-bath with private garden and significant fish pond with fountain - oh, how I love those).



I'm just hoping that at the baht-equivalent of $1 a cup, this little latte heaven is with us until the machines are paid off. That's a lot of coffee.

(Oh, don't panic. The all-breast-fed rolly polly didn't REALLY drink a guava shake!)

Spot the Potential Lawsuit 2

This week's featured black hole of death (with a paw and baby making a safe get-away).


Sorry, this game is hugely amusing to me. (If you need a primer on the Lawsuit game, check out my first Spot the Potential Lawsuit post.)