SHALL WE DANCE?

IT'S MARCH, Y'ALL! So you know what the McGlincheys are watching on TV, and it ain't "Dancing With the Stars" (that would be my mother and my grandmother). Apparently, not everyone in my peer group is as obsessed with NCAA basketball as I am - the Junior Woman's Club Spring Show was this week, meaning that I spent my Thursday and Saturday nights at Scott Theater instead of at a sports bar. (I did manage to "represent" on Thursday - burnt orange jacket, burnt orange ball cap with a rhinestone longhorn logo and a UT cell phone case, from which I extracted my phone each time my darling spouse texted me an update.)

This upcoming week being Spring Break, I'm feeling nostalgic for our law school days, when Spring Break meant hanging around the Erwin Center and watching first-round game after first-round game, and hollering ourselves hoarse, regardless of whether we had a dog in the fight. Best NCAA memories, tie:

(1) Purdue/Wisconsin-Green Bay in 1995, final score 49-48 (yeah, you read that right), ten corn-fed farm boys playing basketball in what seemed like slow motion (ever tried to watch paint dry?), and at the end of the game Parnell convinced one of the Wisconsin band members to give him his foam cheese hat as a memento. (The first guy he asked was sentimentally attached to his hat, as his band "big brother" had gifted it to him, but he helpfully shouted to the folks below him, "Hey, somebody give this guy some cheese." And cheese we were given. The former owner's name is written in it in Sharpie marker. It has a place of honor in our closet.)

(2) Arkansas/Texas Southern University, the same year. Final score: Arkansas 79/TSU 78. Halftime show score: Arkansas "pep band" 0/TSU "Ocean of Soul" one bazillionty trillion. Mind you, this was in Austin, in the heyday of the Texas/Arkansas rivalry, and the Razorback fans were in fine form (posing with their fingers up the nostrils of the Bevo statue, etc.), so we were kind of primed to cheer for TSU anyway, but seriously? Six guys with trombones, running in a little circle on the court, do not a halftime show make. The natives got restless and started shouting, "O-CEAN, O-CEAN, O-CEAN," completely drowning out the horns. When the OOS finally came out and did their thing - awesome, as always - the crowd went into a total frenzy (as a frame of reference, imagine the Jonas Brothers showing up unannounced at your local middle school). We figured it wasn't going to get any better than that (TSU, a 15 seed, had played a pretty abysmal first half against #2 Arkansas), and left for lunch. Turned on the radio and heard the words that no sports fan wants to hear when the stadium is in their rearview mirror: "Can you believe this? The underdogs have come from behind and are winning this game!" ABORT! ABORT! EXIT AND LOOP BACK! And then Arkansas won by a point. Grr.

So now Big 12 tournament time is upon us, and . . . whaaaaaaa? Missouri and Baylor? World's gone mad. Kinda fun, though. Made me think of this nugget that went around earlier this year - mostly relevant to football, but kind of applicable to basketball as well. (Note: When I received this the first go-round, the Texas entry ended with "Home of God's chosen people." I see that some hater has added "or so they believe." Perhaps a Razorback fan?)

IF THE BIG 12 CONFERENCE WAS THE MIDDLE EAST

BAYLOR: Lebanon. Everything they do is just a cluster, and no matter what they do, nothing ever seems to get better. Every once in awhile, they'll nip at the ankles of one of the larger nations, and annoy those other nations off just enough to where they're smacked down and consequently can't achieve anything noteworthy for the next ten years.

COLORADO: United Arab Emirates. An incredibly refined populace - probably because it's impossible to make it your home unless you're incredibly wealthy. Does its best to compete with its neighbors, but has resigned itself to being the playground of the region, instead of one of its traditional powers. Doesn't have a baseball team.

IOWA STATE: Afghanistan. There's really no reason that this nation should even exist, and if it weren't for previous colonial empires, it probably wouldn't. Easily overlooked over the last 300 years, its people are a ramshackle alliance of groups that don't belong anywhere else. Wishes to God, Allah, and whoever else that it would either cease to exist or be swallowed up by Pakistan to the south or the University of Iowa to the west.

KANSAS: Saudi Arabia. Not altogether a bad place; has had historical success in oil and basketball, and continues to be a world leader in those areas. However, parts of the ruling family tend to thrive on its excess, much to its detriment; a certain prince's fondness for American culture (especially for its sweet baked goods) could very well lead to its downfall.

KANSAS STATE: Armenia. No one wants to be here, especially the Armenians. What's more, nobody really knows where it is. First came to prominence just a decade ago, and nobody can really remember it existing as an independent nation before that. Primary exports: Corn, junior college transfers.

MISSOURI: Turkey. Still trying to figure out how it got mixed up in this region, anyway. They're a member of NATO. Shouldn't they be in the Big Ten?

NEBRASKA: Egypt. Was once a great power; its history, through the ages, is matched by few. Has languished in recent years, failing to recognize its new place in the world order as a follower, and not the leader it once was. Its people tend to be the friendliest to its neighbors, though still harboring a long simmering, yet contained, hatred for Israel.

OKLAHOMA: Iraq. Lies, cheats, and steals to get its way in the international community. If caught doing something wrong, or illegal, its excuse is that "everybody else has done it, we just get caught." No one wants to live here, but everybody that does wishes they could move away. Recently has undergone minor restructuring due to numerous ethics violations.

OKLAHOMA STATE: Syria. Nobody pays attention to them until they start mouthing off to the other nations around it. Will occasionally attack its neighbors, with varying success, with most of its successes coming in areas that others couldn't care less about, like wrestling.

TEXAS: Israel. Pretty much everyone else in the region hates them. Can destroy lesser countries at will using incredibly advanced tactics. Not relegated to the stone-age lifestyle of many of its neighboring nations. Home of God's chosen people, or so they believe.

TEXAS A&M: Palestine. Doesn't actually exist as an entity to really be dealt with, but loves nothing more than to take pot-shots at Israel, just to tick them off. Economy based on farming, with an emphasis on sheep. Continuously complains that they're the real power in the region, and that their status should supersede that of Israel. Religious zealotry abounds; small, infrequent attacks on its neighbors are hailed as 'moral' victories.

TEXAS TECH: Iran. Really, REALLY wants to be noticed in the international community. Will go so far as to fake the development of nuclear weapons, or choose homicidal, maniacal, self-aggrandizing men as their president/basketball coach, just to get noticed. Incredibly eccentric as a nation. Has a deep-seated hatred of both Israel and Iraq - and a huge inferiority complex to go along with it. Very arid, dry climate featuring frequent windstorms.

Birthday Party Blast From the Past

My friend Melanie's daughter asked for a monkey-themed birthday party, so I dug up these photos for her, and I thought I'd share them with the world at large. Banana is a pull-apart (cupcake) cake; sock monkey head was devil's food and delicious . . . .

Batman and Mardi Gras Update

(Because when you think of the one, you automatically think of the other, right?) Finally got around to watching "Dark Knight." Um, ick. Christian Bale - not as hot as cartoon Batman. Weak chin, kind of pasty, and, oh, God - that voice. Bruce Wayne voice was sort of okay, but when he was in the costume, I kept expecting him to grunt, "Ummm, french-fried potatoes" in the Billy Bob Thornton voice from "Slingblade."

Mardi Gras was fun, bread pudding recipe was DIVINE, and everyone really liked my Cajun pecans, which I served as-is and also chopped up and sprinkled over a Brie that was baked with pear preserves and brown sugar. Cathy, this recipe shout-out is specifically for you: Melt 1/2 stick butter and drizzle over 1/2 pound of pecans. Sprinkle with Tony Chachere's Creole Seasoning to taste. Toss to coat, spread in a single thin layer on a baking sheet and bake 8-10 minutes. Store in airtight container.

Pecans also tasted great cooked up with some butter, shallots and rum and drizzled over baked white fish . . . .

Zebras Are Aggressive Panhandlers

. . . and none too bright. We took the boys to Fossil Rim over the weekend, and, although a number of the animals were quite cheeky and forward in their attempts to invade the cabin of the car, the zebras seemed to want to climb in and actually drive it. When we tried rolling up the window, they would leave their muzzles inside until the very last minute and darned near get trapped. Unlike our first trip, we did not have a giraffe stick its head down through the sunroof. Parnell was kind of disappointed about this.

Slide show follows. The extreme animal close-ups were not created via optical and/or digital zoom - the animals were really that "in-your-face". (In fact, I had to pull as far back as possible in the passenger seat to get the shots of them coming through the driver's side window.)

Click on the slide show to pull photos up to full screen and see captions.

Going Batty

Our kids' obsessions seem to progress in lockstep fashion. Both kids were totally gone for Thomas the Tank Engine until just after their (Thomas-themed) fourth birthday parties; then, at four years plus one day, we abruptly transitioned into "all Justice League, all of the time." While PJ is channeling Superman in this photo, both boys are in total and complete agreement that Batman beats all. Connor was Batman for Halloween two years in a row (okay, technically he was Batman the first year and Batman Beyond the second, and if you have boys in your life then you, too, know that the former is Bruce Wayne and the latter is Terry McGinnis, but I digress) and he enjoyed wearing his costumes - well, everywhere. The highlight was the evening trip to Walgreens with his dad: Connor, sporting the "old- school, non-muscle-chest" gray, black and yellow getup, refused to hold Parnell's hand in the parking lot ("because people will know that I'm not really Batman") and then serenaded folks in the office supply aisle with a very loud rendition of "Play That Funky Music, White Boy." Complete with choreography. Guess the anonymity of the mask and cowl is a bit empowering?

My oldest (at the age of four and a half) explained the appeal thusly: "Superman is a superhero because he was born an alien. Spider Man got lucky and was bitten by a radioactive spider. But Bruce Wayne is a superhero because he is smart and good at business." (Those of you who know Connor understand that he was born a miniature Donald Trump with better hair, so his opinion on the subject? Really, not all that surprising. However, we were quite amused to hear the Sheldon character on "Big Bang Theory" advance the same theory last season. Come to think of it, Connor's got a lot of Sheldon in him as well - but I digress again.)

Mom's also a Batman fan, but for another reason. See, the Justice League Unlimited version of Batman/Bruce Wayne? Totally and completely hot. Broad shoulders, barrel chest, piercing blue eyes, sexy-as-heck voice . . . definitely not the "kind of effeminate/hangs out WAY too much with Robin" Batman from my childhood. Clearly, the JLU people were marketing geniuses: if Mom happens to find the show less grating then - well, Scooby Doo, for one (Freddy and Shaggy - definitely not hot), she's less likely to protest when the kids chunk the DVDs in the basket at Super Target, right? To up the mom-friendly quotient, they've scripted it so that everyone hooks up with everyone - Wonder Woman is crushing on Batman, Green Arrow's got a thing for Black Canary, Green Lantern's involved in a love triangle, etc. It's like "Grey's Anatomy," only McDreamy can shoot laser beams out of his eyes.

Anyway, I've begun putting my Batman obsession to good use with Parnell. When he gets out of line, I throw the spectre of Bruce Wayne in his face. As in: "Bruce Wayne would not break his arm hanging Christmas lights. Bruce would have Alfred hire the whole manor done. Then he'd fly me to Tahiti for the holiday." Hey - it could happen.

Retail Therapy

Things I'm digging in February:

New scents from Bath & Body Works (Blushing Cherry Blossom and Dancing Waters), and old favorites like Enchanted Orchid
Slatkin & Co. Fresh Bamboo candles
Wide-legged denim trousers
My new Nicole Miller sunglasses with amber-tinted lenses (but I don't dig them as much as Lindsay's purple Lacoste shades, which she stubbornly refuses to give me)
My new hot pink Skullcandy earbuds (purchased to replace the old pair that the cat chewed through); they are total noise-cancelling awesomeness, plus they are cute, and none of the males in my family will go near them because they are pink
"Butterfly" and "Make It Mine" off of Jason Mraz's latest CD

The Mardi Gras Tree

I came, I decorated, I was satisfied . . . for awhile. And then I decided I wanted the darned thing out of my house. But it was up for the first three weeks of the year, and it made me feel very subversive. The gaudy tinsel is now filling a trifle bowl on top of a bookcase, various of the gaudy ornaments and the excess beads are filling vases throughout the house, and there it all will stay until the 24th. The mantel is similarly bedecked (don't have a photo of that), and I've tucked Mardi Grad coins and "dollar bills" into picture frames here and there for a little extra "purposeful whimsy." Oh, and the dining room table is rocking a MAH-di GRAH centerpiece, too.

We're taking the grandparents (great-grandmother included) to Ridglea's jazz brunch this weekend, I've got some of my girls coming over on Fat Tuesday night and then we're thinking about venturing to Buttons for more jazz and some late-night crawfish done Ken Hicks style. This is one of the recipes I'm planning on making on Tuesday - it combines two of my all-time favorites, King Cake and bread pudding:

CHEF JOHN FOLSE'S KING ZULU BREAD PUDDING

4½ ounces Baker’s semi-sweet chocolate
4 cups king cake, cut into 1-inch cubes
2 whole eggs
3 egg yolks
2 cups heavy whipping cream
1 cup milk
½ cup sugar

Preheat oven to 325ºF. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together eggs and egg yolks until well blended then set aside. In a large saucepan, combine whipping cream, milk and sugar. Bring mixture to a low simmer then add chocolate. Whisk mixture until chocolate is completely melted. Remove pot from heat and, stirring quickly, add whipped eggs to the cream mixture. Blend thoroughly to keep eggs from scrambling. In a 8" x 8" baking dish, place king cake cubes. Pour chocolate mixture over the cake. Using your fingertips, press cake gently allowing the cream mixture to be absorbed evenly. Cover dish with aluminum foil and allow to soak a minimum of 30 minutes prior to baking. Bake, covered, for approximately 1 hour. Remove foil and bake 20 additional minutes or until top is golden brown. This bread pudding is actually better if chilled in the refrigerator overnight, after baking, then cut into squares and heated in individual portions in the microwave. You may wish to create a chocolate sauce for topping the bread pudding by combining 8 ounces of melted chocolate and 3 ounces of heavy whipping cream. This may be done in a double boiler or microwave. Yield: 6-8 servings.

Happy New Year . . . A Tad Late

Okay, so it's February 18th . . . better late than never, right? Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned: it's been two months since my last post (although I did draft a Valentine's Day shout-out the other day, which I am publishing along with this one; see below).

We had a fabulous Christmas chez McGlinchey, broken arm notwithstanding. If your biggest complaint is that there are too many presents and too many celebrations (Christmas Eve with Parnell's family, Santa and "immediate family" presents at our house Christmas morning, and Christmas dinner with my folks), then you have nothing to complain about. Uncle Alex and Aunt Dahna won the prize for best gifts this year - Connor finally got his big robot (prior to Christmas '08, he'd been forced to make do with the small, non-programmable Robo Sapien and Robo Panda - however did he survive?), and Parker got, among other items, a carton of light-up Tonka vehicles that elicited a very enthusiastic, "I've been waiting for this gift MY ENTIRE LIFE." Our next door neighbors and good friends the Flynns also scored major points with a giant glow-in-the-dark "pinpression" toy (big enough to create a mask of your entire face; cool!), among other creative play toys. (Mom particularly appreciated the "I TRIPLE DOG-DARE YOU" bag, a la "A Christmas Story," in which the bags arrived.)

Parnell and I had as much fun giving gifts this year as receiving them. Always stumped for ideas for his brothers, we decided to send Zan and Patrick bungee jumping, and all of the males over the age of four (sorry, Parker!) received paintball park passes. (My sister-in-law and I plan on tagging along to take pictures and make fun of the crybabies.) I also particularly enjoyed giving Connor his Cub Scout "badge blanket" . . . until the iron-on job that I did on the badges decided not to hold, and they all started coming off. Whoops. Learning to use a sewing machine - it's on my bucket list.

Parnell got his cast off mid-January and is none the worse for wear. And I got my Mardi Gras tree (see the next entry) . . . .

Happy Hearts Day

We celebrated our first anniversary in NYC, and, while there, purchased a Brian Andreas
"Storypeople" print (from the gift shop at the Public Library, I think?) that summed up our relationship to that point. It reads: "I was waiting for such a long time, she said. I thought you forgot. It's hard to forget, I said, when there is such an empty space when you are gone." We framed it and hung it by the front door of our apartment, and it occupies a similar place in our home today.

Fast forward twelve years . . . . Last year for Valentine's Day, Parnell bought me a new laptop. (Unromantic, you say? Did I mention that it was red? Did I also mention that I love it, love it, love it?) This year, we agreed to stick with electronics - a new VCR/DVD combo with burner, so all of the various kid VCR tapes that we are reluctant to part with can be burned to disc and stored in a binder, rather than taking up a drawer in our bedroom and one in Connor's. (If you've been married for a long time, and have kids, then you understand - reclaiming two large drawers' worth of space is a very big deal - quite liberating, and maybe even a little sexy?) We've been picking up other little things along the way (Parnell has to have his Valentine's chocolate - not the kind in a heart-shaped box, but a big gift bag filled with Hershey bars, Reese's cups, etc. - and he bought me a beautiful tulip arrangement, knowing that I don't like getting cut flowers as a gift; I'd rather have something living), but we agreed that grand sentimental gestures are no longer strictly necessary.

Then I stopped in Artful Hand after leaving the hair salon yesterday (same shopping center, and the salon was burning this really great candle that they got at AH), and right next to the candles was a Storypeople display. I ended up getting one for each of my "boys," and they are all totally sappy (and one had the indirect effect of making one of my boys feel like crud; see below):

For the husband: "Tied together by stuff too difficult to explain to someone new." (Note: This is not to be interpreted as, "I'm sticking with you because it would be too difficult to break in a replacement." Again, if you've been married awhile, with kids, you should get the message.)

For the 'tween son: "There has never been a day when I have not been proud of you, I said to my son, though some days I'm louder about other stuff so it's easy to miss that."

For the baby: "The first time his laughter unfurled its wings in the wind, we knew that the world would never be the same."

The "proud" one made Parnell wince a bit, because it's kind of been World War III at our house for the last few days. After years of playing short order cook to our very picky oldest child (whose tendencies are beginning to rub off on the youngest ones), Dad drew the line in the sand, and the new rule is "everyone eats the same thing for dinner, no exceptions, and if you don't finish your dinner, no snacks will be offered." (This constitutes a revision of Dad's first, rather hastily - and angrily - conceived rule of "you WILL eat this cheeseburger macaroni, even if it's for breakfast tomorrow morning, or dinner tomorrow night, because I'm not letting you eat ANYTHING ELSE until you eat THIS, and we're NEVER bringing another snack in this house, EVER." After he calmed down, I persuaded him that the first draft of the rule was a bit Draconian, totally unworkable, and likely to get us in trouble with Child Protective Services.) The first night, Parker forced himself to throw up (and by "up," I do mean "up" - it got in his hair somehow?). The second night, Connor reluctantly consumed his small helping of chicken, vegetables and penne pasta in Alfredo sauce, and we all learned that (1) yellow bell peppers are better than red or orange ones and (2) he actually kind of likes zucchini - "scratch that, Mom - I just don't mind it as much as some of the others." (Hey, I'll work with what I can get.)

Meanwhile, Drama Boy threw himself on the floor, moaning, "Do you WANT me to kill myself? Because I WILL kill myself, on the count of 1 - 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3 . . . 2 . . . um, 1. Because I really WILL kill myself. I'm not kidding about this."

So Connor finished, and - per a previously negotiated agreement - he and I headed out to Curly's for drive-through fro yo (Mom), a root beer float (Dad) and fruit punch slush (Connor). Dad stayed home with Parker, since Parker had not touched his food. As Connor and I approached the house (after a five-minute round trip - Curly's is blocks away), we saw Dad's car pulling out - he rolled down the window and announced, "We're going to Curly's - see you in a minute." Apparently, seeing big brother get a reward was all it took. Parker consumed his now-cold dinner in seconds flat (and, after the first bite, said "Oh - this is actually really good").

Long story short - we haven't won the food fight, but we're on the attack, and gaining positive ground.

WELCOME TO OUR (VIRTUAL) WORLD!

A slide show of the McGlincheys' year in pictures is in the right margin, and there are a number of other slide shows attached to various posts. (Holiday photos accompany the "Christmas in Cowtown" post - I didn't intend to blog between now and then, but Parnell's broken arm merited a mention!). If this is your first visit to the site, the slide shows link to Picasa Web albums. If you double click on a slide show, it will take you to Picasa, where you can view the slides full-sized and with captions by clicking the "Slideshow" tab. If you see a photo that you want to print, the Picasa site will permit you to download to a variety of print sources (Shutterfly, Walgreens, etc.).

Ho, ho . . . ohhhhhh

So I had a few friends over for "rappin' and [gift] wrappin'" last night - margaritas and Mexican munchies, nothing fancy - and Parnell offered to take the kids to Movie Tavern for dinner and an animated film for the duration of the party. Before he left, I asked him to clean up the front porch (move some potted plants and an assemblage of the boys' sporting goods to the backyard, etc.). Somehow, this was interpreted as "borrow an extension ladder and hang Christmas garland in a huge hurry, without a spotter" - FORESHADOWING ALERT #1. (It's been rainy and cold for days - hardly outdoor decorating weather - and the big trees in the front yard just saw fit to dump their leaves, which were clumped in wet, SLIPPERY piles everywhere - FORESHADOWING ALERT #2.) I happened to be walking through the living room just in time to hear what can best be described as "whoosh, THUD, ohhhhhh." I've been advised that "Parnell fell off of a ladder" is an incorrect summary of what occurred, because the bottom of the ladder slipped backwards and Parnell simply went down with it. Fortunately, he landed ON the ladder - had the ladder not been between him and the sidewalk, he would have landed face down, the front steps probably would have hit him mid-throat, and you'd be receiving notice of funeral arrangements in lieu of a Christmas card (or a donation solicitation from the Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation). Instead, he broke his left arm above the wrist and did a number on a couple of ribs.

Considering what could have happened, it's been pretty easy for us to take the whole thing in stride (well, now that we've moved beyond the, "What in HADES were you thinking?" lecture - or series of lectures, it's hard to say - I took a few breaths here and there, but the sum total of the lecturing/filibuster went on for roughly eighteen hours, with assists from my mom, his mom, various women friends, neighbors and co-workers, the kids' teachers, and the the all-female staff of our orthopedic surgeon's office). Who knew that Vicodin only costs $4.71? And, after several years of threatening to decorate a "Mardi Gras tree" like the ones that you see in the windows of the homes around the Bishop's Palace in Galveston, it looks like I'll have my opportunity - the cast will be with us until mid-January, and there's no way I'm wrangling our behemoth of a tree out to the carriage house, so why not throw some beads on it?

Please refrain from teasing the poor guy - trust me, that ground has been covered. Just forward the name of a good Christmas light hanger before December '09 rolls around . . . .

Holiday Fun on the Web

I couldn't resist circulating this link before last week's tacky sweater party:

http://weloveholidaysweaters.wehatesheep.com/

Judging by the number of virtual sweaters that made it into my inbox that afternoon, I'd say that my e-mail was well-received. Sarah's Festivus "Vest-ivus" was hard to beat. Speaking of my husband's favorite winter holiday, for those in the market for a good Festivus pole, check out:

http://www.festivuspoles.com/pages/Festivuspoles.htm

For my money, nothing says "quality Festivus pole" like extruded aluminum. After airing your grievances and/or participating in the feats of strength, you no doubt will want to indulge in a refreshing adult beverage:

https://www.festivuswine.com/order/

For more traditional celebrations, www.swoozies.com has terribly cute partyware. I couldn't resist these tumblers (which I filled with some truly potent Bacardi Rum Balls for a cookie exchange). Click on the photo for a close-up.

Technology

As someone who has always scrapbooked by hand and sent (paper) cards and handwritten notes, I am by turns surprised, amused and dismayed by how technologically dependent I have become. The extent of my integration into the tech world has been particularly apparent this holiday season. This evening found me simultaneously uploading photos of the kids to Picasa, updating a spreadsheet of Christmas card addresses and burning my iTunes Christmas mix to CDs as favors for an upcoming holiday party. While I still insist on sending out paper Christmas cards (old habits die hard), I've begrudgingly become a fan of the Evite (both giving and receiving them), and once I permitted myself to take that first camera phone photo of a book title that interested me at Barnes & Noble (didn't have a pen and wasn't going to remember it otherwise), the floodgates opened and I soon had a whole jpeg Christmas list going for me. I was relieved when I had to borrow Parnell's phone one night at dinner (I say "had to," but in all honesty I think I used it to access the Internet, IMDB specifically, to settle an argument about an actor in a movie - further proof of my tech dependency, but, seriously, HOW USEFUL is IMDB? The days of walking around racking your brain trying to remember the name of "that other guy in Stripes and Ghostbusters" are long behind us!) and discovered that he had a slew of photos of books, toys for the kids, etc., on his phone as well.

The moment that I knew that I was developing a serious problem? When I thought to write down some ideas about what to wear to various holiday parties (which accessories would go with what, etc.) and just decided to take pictures of complete ensembles instead. Cleverness, or the height of laziness? You decide . . . and text me your response.

Christmas in Cowtown

December often finds Dad running a zone defense while Mom exchanges a variety of things with her girlfriends - cookies, ornaments, wacky kitchen gifts, etc. Dad prefers the cookie exchanges for obvious reasons, although Mom does think that the banana slicer from this year's kitchen gift exchange will prove useful (and very empowering for young Parker). This year, we did find some time for man-to-man coverage - Parnell and Connor attended the Cub Scout pancake breakfast and space derby while Mom and Parker watched "The Polar Express" in their PJ's at the Museum of Science and History. (The BIG development - Parker discovered hot chocolate, courtesy of the Starbucks baristas who were working the museum event. And he LOVED it . . . . "Mom, now we can go to Starbucks, and you can have coffee, and I can have THIS STUFF!") We also have had the opportunity for some major family fun, some of it structured and some of it spontaneous (microwave s'mores parties!). However, the kids will no doubt remember this holiday season as the one in which the Space Shuttle came to town. Fortunately for them, Parnell's mom retains privileges at the Joint Reserve Base, so on 12/11 Parnell and Grandmother McGlinchey took both kids out of school, scored grandstand seats on the tarmac and watched the shuttle take off for Florida on the back of its jet. They got really, REALLY close, and needless to say Dad (and Grandmother) scored serious cool points.

For Mom, this season is memorable because it's the first time that Parker really "gets" the holiday. And he's very committed to it . . . . Cross Buddy the Elf with Mini Me, and you have our young Parker James. "Mom - I love chocolate. Chocolate is my FAVORITE! Candy canes are my FAVORITE!" (These outbursts of unbridled enthusiasm usually elicit the same response from cynical big brother Connor - "Parker, you're a cotton-headed ninny muggins." Yes, we are an Elf-obsessed family.) Parker is also hard at work on his present-opening technique: "It's like opening a ketchup package from McDonald's. PEENCH [pinch], PEENCH, TEAR!" It's a tradition in our family to wrap the kids' old Christmas books, which are opened, advent calendar-style, and read before bed, so he has had some good practice sessions.

Connor is looking forward to a two-week break from school, and I'm sure that after the third-grade field trip to see the Nutcracker on the 19th, the teachers will be ready for a break as well. Connor has made it through the Nutcracker 1 1/4 times. At age 5, he made it to "Waltz of the Snowflakes," then tugged on Mom's sleeve, inquired as to when it would be "halftime," and requested that we walk across the street to Barnes and Noble for refreshments (the concessions at Bass Hall having been deemed unacceptable - all beverages, no cookies). Needless to say, we never returned. The next year, family friends were among the performers, and the fascination of seeing Kendall, Reagan and their parents on stage held his attention for awhile, but we were in the lobby midway through the second act. Perhaps the third time will be the charm.

One of our favorite holiday traditions is "angel shopping." Our attention this year has been focused on two charities, Alliance for Children and the First Street Mission. Connor was charged with selecting gifts for several nine year-old boys, and Parker helped select four year-old-appropriate toys and clothes. We also stocked up on cold weather gear for the Mission's mitten tree. Our kids aren't saints, to be sure - each tends to come down with a serious case of the "gimmes" at this time of year - but we try to mitigate the commercialism of the holiday by involving them in charitable giving whenever possible. The last couple of years, we have made end-of-the-year donations in the names of various family, friends and coworkers, and the kids have helped match the honorees with appropriate donees. Not surprisingly, they tend to gravitate towards the MD Anderson Children's Art Project, ASPCA, Heifer International and other kid-friendly organizations, but this year I suspect that we may see a broader focus: as a participant in our church's summer mission camp, Connor had the opportunity to volunteer at the First Street Mission, tour one of the local night shelters and purchase food and clothes on a budget approximating what is given to those on government assistance, so his frame of reference has grown beyond "buying shares in animals is fun."

Our love to friends and family, and much health and happiness to everyone in 2009 . . . .

The Pro Bono Attorney Visual Design Team Strikes Again

For the Christmas open house at Junior Woman's Club, each department was asked to decorate a tree, mantel or table in the style of a particular artist or art movement. I remembered seeing an Asian-themed tree in Southern Living (the gold-accented tree with the kites and lanterns), and I thought that it might be fun to try to adapt that concept to a tree featuring woodcuts by Hokusai and Hiroshige (Hokusai's "The Great Wave off Kanagawa" is featured here). So I set to work tying tulle bows to art cards and making paper lanterns and origami boats (the only origami that I know, and fortunately thematically appropriate!). Garden Ridge had some red lantern ornaments, which was also fortunate, because the only unused lights that Parnell could find in the carriage house (I was trying to do this on the cheap) were red. On the way out of the house, I grabbed some Ginger jar-shaped table decorations left over from another party and a few of the Kokeshi dolls that my dad sent to me from Asia when I was a little girl. Lindsay helped me put it all together, and - considering that the tree itself was awfully threadbare - I think it turned out pretty well. We also decorated a console table on behalf of Culinary Arts - the theme was "Food in Art, and the Art of Food" (because "Arranging Random Culinary-Related Things from Lindsay's and Kathryn's Houses in a Vaguely Artistic Way, with Ribbon Candy Purchased from Walgreens in the Middle of the Night as Filler" was a little too wordy). I do think it came out cute, all things considered (sort of Bistro Louise-ish, for those of you Cowtown residents?).