Zeno's Bar & Grill

I really, really needed a black porkpie hat, or at least something in a knit with horizontal stripes, when we went to see the English Beat last night. In the end, I had to settle for a bunch of Madonna-esque silver bangles and a black tank top with jeans. I never thought I'd see the day when I regretted getting rid of all my eighties paraphernalia, but apparently that day came, and it was December 30, 2006. Make a note.

The show was at a small bar nearby and it was a total blast. Some of the songs were a little like hearing a 45 rpm record played at 33 rpm, but even those had a pretty good groove once you got over the idea that they weren't going to sound exactly the way you remembered from the albums. Basically the whole place was like one giant mosh pit, and we were right up front with a group of friends. I think I probably lost a little hearing on that one, not to mention some water weight.

And since we were rehydrating all night with well drinks, I also got to try out my new hangover remedy when I got home. I ordered it online from New Zealand after reading an article about it in the NY Times a few weeks back. It's called Berocca and it's supposed to be the wonder hangover drug--a fizzy, vitamin-filled tablet that tastes surprisingly good dissolved in a glass of cold water after one too many martinis. It must have worked, because I'm here at eight in the morning in all my glory, aren't I? Bayer, who manufactures the stuff, apparently doesn't think there's a market for Berocca in the U.S., because we're too puritanical to admit we get hangovers, but as one article put it, "Isn't that why Al Gore invented the internet?" Get thee to a Canadian pharmacy site and you can try it yourself.

--Melanie

We had a very nice Christmas day. The kids opened their presents in record time. I miss the days of yore when they would get distracted by every toy and want to open and play with it that second making the present opening phase last until dinner. This year we celebrated Hanukkah also and I like the way we open only one gift a night. It makes the kids pay attention and appreciate what they receive. Now if I could only find a way to make my family eat the holiday meal a little slower I'd be set. It seems nuts to spend all night and day cooking only to have everything gobbled up quicker than you can say halupki.

The next day we loaded up the family including Uncle Macko and Aunt Leigh and went to the Shedd Aquarium. It was a whale of a good time especially seeing the new baby beluga, which are, despite Raffi, a dark grey. They don't turn white until they reach adulthood.

The next day hubby took off early and my brother, sister-in-law and I took to what is becoming an annual pilgrimage - The Museum of Contemporary Art. This main exhibit was interesting about the future of design and sustainability, but it was a lot of reading and I wanted some eye candy and unfortunately a Richard Tuttle retrospective on the next floor didn't really cut it. He is described as a postminimalist and that doesn't even begin to describe pieces of wire shaped along a white wall with silver brads. I liked some of his larger sculptures with lightbulbs and my sister-in-law enjoyed his aquatint prints, but overall I think we were all a little underwhelmed. And if there are any Tuttle fans reading this, I would LOVE for you to tell me why you like his work, I am genuinely interested.

We still have our big New Year Day party ahead of us and then will come the clean up and back to normalcy. I'm looking forward to it as my big New Year's Resolution is to simplify and to be more organized.

Happy New Year!

--Kelly

My eight-year old doubting Thomasina said with a sigh of relief, "Well, this proves it. You guys can't be Santa." Norad, I love you. Check it out: Norad Santa Tracker.com with live satellite tracking and videos from all over the world (I'm especially partial to the Santa sighting in Japan where he raced the bullet train to determine his ground speed.)

--Melanie

I don't care if I never see another Jennifer Aniston flick/depressing 70's classic/wacky documentary.

For some reason, my husband ended up in charge of the Netflix queue, and like some kind of retro 50's housewife, for months and months it never even occurred to me that I, too, could wield the almighty mouse to claim control over my viewing destiny.

Well, no more. I am She Who Possesses the Netflix Password (we both do, now) and my power and might have rained forth. Now, Heathers and Clueless, instead of the Deer Hunter and Taxi Driver, are at the top of our queue. Ha! Wonder how long this will last...

--Melanie

I know just how Melanie feels. I can not wait until Monday is done. I got the last of my presents today and am just crossing my fingers that two last presents arrive in time. I spent more money on shipping than I did on the present for my Grandma because I waited until the last minute to send it. Though I had the most pleasant experience at the UPS store. When some grumpy guy tried to get in front of me the lady at the counter took me first instead, making grumpy old guy fill out his paperwork. Then, she noticed that the address I had jotted on the box was different than the one I filled out on the form and she called me at home to make sure which was the right one. Now that is service - I take back all the mean things I've said over the years about UPS - and belive me there have been many!

My brother and his wife are coming to stay with us tomorrow, so that should be fun, but I probably won't get a lot of blogging (or anything else done) until after the first of the year. Which isare our traditional New Year's Day Open House. So far about 60 people have RSVP'd favorably. I hope they all don't show up at once. Mel, do you guys want to give up your warm SB weather for a weekend in the cold? If so you're welcome to join the party!

Hope everyone has a great holiday with whatever you celebrate (we also do Hanukkah, so I've been busy with that too!). And here's hoping we all survive having the kids at home for two weeks! Our school gets out on Friday and they don't go back until the 8th. That sounds like such a long long long ways away.

-In honor of Mel- LAOIS

--Kelly

It's official. Holiday-itis has set in, despite my best efforts. To think that this weekend I was congratulating myself on how well-prepared I was, how relaxed I felt.

What a difference a couple of days makes at this time of year.

On Monday night, I was up until midnight baking pieces for not one, but two, homemade gingerbread houses (one for us and one for a friend.) It all sounded so sensible when I invited their family over for a fun holiday craft. Apparently the gingerbread mold/housing tract approach does not solve all problems. I forgot how long those things take to bake. Plus there was breakage. Am hoping Royal Cement Icing will solve fracture issues on right panel of gingerbread chalet.

Then, yesterday, I awoke in a panic, realizing I'd never gotten my grandmother a gift after the rest of my family nixed my group gift idea a couple of weeks ago.

It was thus that seven A.M. found me at my computer, frantically ordering a Harry and David gift tower that she probably won't even eat. It's the thought that counts, right? Right?

--Melanie

I realized I had a problem when I used the word to describe something to a surly teenager working at Pier One and he looked me straight in the eye and muttered, "I wouldn't go that far."

I need to go cold turkey on the word "cute" before someone takes me into custody for abuse of a cheesy adjective.

Even "nice" would be better. I may need some kind of twelve step program. It's gotten totally out of control.

--Melanie

Okay, okay, we know it's been a while - but here is a special Holiday Edition of Thirsty Thursday.

Our theme is Holiday Cards.

When you get a holiday card from someone who is not on your list do you send one in return?

Kelly: Yes. I always save a few for just this potentially embarrassing situation. One caveat: If said card arrives far too late and it would seem obvious to the person that you only sent a card in response to their card, then I just add their address to my book and then they get one the following year.

Melanie: Yes, definitely. Frankly, I always have a sneaking suspicion that the only cards that we receive are of this variety. Sniff. Sniffle. I just wanna be on someone's list instead of getting the sympathy votes this year.

Do you have any people with whom holiday cards are your sole means of communication?

Kelly: Yes. In fact, I was trying to cull the number of people that fall into this category, but then I received cards from them and according to my rule above, I had to send cards to them.

Melanie: Me too. Actually, I kind of like it. It's my big chance to correspond with my old undergrad thesis advisor or that gal I worked with back in Philly.

Do you send or receive more cards?

Kelly: Definitely and Depressingly - Send.

Melanie: Send. Sniffle some more, feel sorry for self. P.S. For the record, the 526 cards mentioned in my post from a couple of days ago are NOT all personal. I'm not that pathetic. Most are for my husband's work.

Your memoir in six words. It's a contest--no wait, it's an exercise in self-analysis! Whatever you want to call it, it's fun. It ends on December 25, 2006, however, so don't delay.

-Melanie & Kelly

I'm not sure at this point if I'm a great mom or a no good, rotten liar.

This is the year that my oldest has really started questioning Santa. It wasn't exactly subtle when the babysitter accidentally let her see the big box from the music company, which my daughter suspected was her sister's requested violin from the big jolly man.

Scrambling desperately, we first tried to tell her the box contained a gift for my hubby. "But, Mommy, it said violin on it," sez she.

Oops.

Somehow, I didn't notice that as I was frantically hustling the box to the basement before she could see it again. BTW, maybe I should really start reading things a little closer--see stamps blog below.

We know that she wants us to help her believe. Desperately. Our best piece of evidence is the fact that every time a box arrives at the door now, she bolts the other direction with her eyes clamped shut and her hands over her ears, yelling, "I can't hear you, I can't hear you."

So now, the plan is to give daughter number 2 TWO violins. We figure this will be the perfect cover, because: A) It proves we didn't know that Santa was going to give her one, ergo we cannot be Santa, and B) It explains what was in that damn box.

--Melanie

Today, after school, I let my son and daughter play in the (relatively) balmy 50 degree weather. A group of boys, my son among them, decided it would be fun to have a snow ball fight. Now the thing about snow is a couple of days of above freezing temperatures combined with intermittent drizzle causes it to turn into ice, which is what the boys were throwing at each other. I was the only adult present (which is a little annoying on it's own given that there were at least 8 other kids there all under the age of 10). I looked around hoping that another grown up (which I don't always feel qualified to be) would show up or the nanny sitting in her toasty warm car would look up from her magazine. Alas, it was just me. I decided I had to say something. So I told the kids to stop, that it was dangerous, it wasn't fluffy snow, you'll put someone's eye out, blah blah blah. So they stopped - for about 30 seconds, then it gradually started up again. Again, I told them to quit and again they failed to listen . My own son was even taking part, though not actually throwing anything, he was definitely in the game. So we left. What else could I have done? I had a long talk with my kids that evening about respect and listening when an adult tells you something, even if it isn't your parent. It reminds me of an earlier post on the decline of people reprimanding other people's kids. Maybe this is why they don't.

--Kelly

To the sons of dogs who decided to continue selling last year's 37 cent holiday stamps on the USPS website: I'm not happy.

Yes, I know you put a little blurb under the item that said 0.02 cents additional postage required. But I DIDN'T SEE IT. Either that, or you added it later, after thousands of outraged customers threatened to revolt.

The first whiff of trouble that I had was when I bellied up to the postal counter this morning WITH MY 526 CHRISTMAS CARDS. It took us weeks to get them ready. My lips are cracked and bleeding from licking envelopes (Okay, that part's not actually true.)

The point is, I have to spend another night in front of the TV putting a 2 cent stamp on every envelope. I won't even mention how it's going to ruin the asthetics of my cute little christmas cookie stamp to put a big, honking ugly black stamp next to it. That would be petty in a world where people struggle with serious misfortune.

But couldn't you people at the USPS please, please STOP SELLING STAMPS THAT ARE OUTDATED? If you are going to raise the rates, fine. Just don't pawn off your overstock on poor, unsuspecting people like me, who are too stupid busy to read the fine print.

Yours sincerely,
Melanie

Every year the parents of one of my husband's friends sends us a box from Swiss Colony. I scoff and mock the ingredients on the mini "sausage". There are so many listed that I think they use 4pt type to fit them all on. But secretly I can't wait to dig in to those li'l smokies dipped in Sweet Hot Mustard. I love the pretty petit fours, the sweet nuts, even the fruit cake (why does it have such a bad rap?), even the mysterious, squishy tubes of flavor in Smoke, Onion, and Sharp. Yesterday I squeezed them on to organic cheese nips. There is some sort of irony there that I just don't care about.

--Kelly

First, there was suburban toile, which is particularly fabulous in its utility blanket incarnation. Then, there's Schott's Almanac with its tabulation of modern trivia, from terminology to data and lists (e.g., of new waxworks at Madame Tussauds; who wore what to the Oscars and the songs on George Bush's iPod, to name a few.) It seems that reinterpreting the classics with a modern spin is becoming downright trendy.

It got me thinking: what else could one apply this strategy to? A friend told me that he knows someone who embroiders pharmaceutical compounds on needlepoint pillows, so that's already taken.

I thought about it for several days, but I think I've finally got it: a modern redwork quilt. These quilts typically date from the 1800's and have little scenes of classic Americana. My mom has a gorgeous one. Can't you just picture it with BlackBerries, iPods, cell phone towers, hip-hop dancing teens and so on?

--Melanie

First of all, let me say I'm with Kelly on the whole Freudian slips thing. It was NOT the Seasick Grill that I passed this morning on the way to drop off my car at the shop. It was the Seaside Grill. It also reminds me of this hotel in Pismo Beach that we always pass on the 101--the Inhalers Inn. It always sounded like such a fun, carefree place, in a Bill Clinton Would Not Stay Here kind of way, until I realized it was actually the Whaler's Inn.

But getting back to nuts. They were a wonder food for about three weeks: a form of protein all my kids liked. I was seriously thinking about writing the American Nut Board a fan letter.

Now. Picture an entire bag of sunflower seeds spilled all over the inside of my car while I was picking up my oldest daughter from her piano lesson this afternoon. Picture it a thousand times worse than what you just pictured. It was a really big bag. When I go berserk for something I tend to buy large.

Could you hear my shriek all the way in Chicago? There were so many seeds all over the gear shifter that I was afraid I wouldn't be able to drive home. I actually asked my daughter's piano teacher if I could borrow her dustbuster. Never an easy thing to say with a straight face. Alas, she had none, so I had to grind all the greasy little kernels into my transmission or whatever is under there in order to drive home.

Yeah. It was that kind of day.

--Melanie

These past couple of weeks I've had these weird Freudian slips of the mind. The first came when I got an invitation to what I thought was "Cocktails and Holiday Cheer". Fun I thought, let me line up a babysitter and dust off my little black dress. Luckily I noticed that it said "Cookies and Holiday Cheer" before I shelled out the bucks for dry cleaning. Then the other night, I realized that I hadn't called my dad to wish him a happy birthday. It was 10pm my time so I thought I would be safe calling him with the time change. Because I guess I really wanted to have not forgotten, I did the math in my head backwards, subtracting an hour to 9pm, rather than adding an hour to 11pm. I was really baffled for two days as to why I'd be waking him up at that early hour until I finally straightened things out with him last night.

I'm trying to lose a couple of pounds before the end of year eating extravaganza, so I better make sure that I don't misread those cookies as 15 calories for two when it is really 150!

--Kelly

I can't exactly recall why we decided to buy tickets to the Jackson Browne show last night. But we jumped at the chance when we were offered the opportunity to have our same, very excellent seats in the tiny, 600 person venue where we see a local series called Sings Like Hell. I really can't explain it, because in the back of my mind, I figured it would be some aging rocker singing Running on Empty and Lawyers in Love. We amused ourselves doing impressions of what this might look like, over drinks and appetizers before the show.

When we came into the theater after the opening act and intermission, the ten guitars lined up on stage immediately made me think our suspicions were correct. For some reason that kind of thing always makes me think of a self-indulgent overgrown teenager who can't believe he has the ability to own that many instruments. His website features a similar image of open guitar cases backstage. Look, Ma, I've got ten guitars!

Whatever. He's got the pipes and lyrics and music to back it up. Seriously, the all-acoustic performance accompanied by David Lindley (who can play fiddle, guitar and middle eastern lute-looking instruments with equal ease) was fantastic.

No wonder tickets were going on Craigslist for four times what we paid. At least one couple flew out from New York for the show, and others came from various parts of California. My only complaint was that his set started so late (9:15!!) that we had to walk out before the show was over. There was a mini exodus at 10 o'clock--probably consisting of other parents who had told the sitter they'd be back by then. We held out for another half hour, but then, yes, we walked out on Jackson Browne.

Now, I wish we'd picked up a CD on the way out. I was hoping to get some of the music we heard on iTunes, but sadly there's very little of the acoustic stuff. Even the song I'm Alive, which was incredible as he did it last night, has a drum track that cheesifies it (I don't care if that's a word or not, you know what I mean.)

--Melanie

And one week later...




Never a dull moment around here. How I long for sweet, boring Santa Barbara!

--Kelly

I'm not sure which shocked me more...to see a story about the Wiggles on the front page of the New York Times or to hear that my favorite Wiggle, Greg, is retiring. I was prepared to write a snarky blog about him going solo and maybe put in some sort of tie in to Gwen Stefani or something along those lines, but then read that he is quitting because of an illness that makes him light headed and unable to preform.

I'm glad that we got a chance to see the Wiggles live while Greg was still with them (and before they got super popular, both times in small venues front row seats for one concert!). Good Luck to you Greg and also to you Sam Moran the new yellow wiggle.

--Kelly