A Letter

Dear Child of Mine,

Amidst the Chaos

Just goes to show, if you fast forward everything and add a catchy soundtrack, life looks pretty darn great.

I jest.  Life is pretty darn great.  It's stressful and hard, noisy and (sometimes) scary, and there are lots of tears…

…but it's still great.

* * *

Unprepared and Nostalgic

My daughters are dressed in their Holiday finery, and we are about to leave for the annual St. Jerome Christmas Concert.  

This has been a strange Advent.  More than ever before, it has snuck up on us, and we are unprepared in this season of preparing.  We don't even have our Christmas tree yet.

As the days whiz by, and I wake up each day farther behind than the day before, and I try like hell to hold on to the things that matter and let go of the things that don't, I find myself literally catching my breath.  I find myself confused by how fast time goes by.

For example, four years doesn't seem like a lifetime ago, but four years go, I wrote a reflection upon coming home from the 2009 Christmas Concert.  Reading it now, I almost feel like I'm reading about some other family instead of mine.  So much has happened since then.

One thing remains the same though: I am still finding, daily and in the midst of chaos and confusion, the things that make me call this a happy family.  To remind me of this important fact, and to indulge in a little nostalgia, here is that reflection once more:

* * *

Is my kid the only kindergartner with a big smudge of green ink on her face? 

Is my 2nd grader the only one with a huge clump of hair hanging down in her face? It appears that all those other girls are perfectly coiffed. 

Why does my 4th grader look like he is being choked by his tie, which is pulling strangely up and to the left? 

Is my 5th grader really that bored by the proceedings, or is his arm injured in a such a way that he physically cannot hold his sparkly star any higher than his elbow, rendering it at least 6 inches lower than the stars of all of his classmates? 

Are we the only parents who yelled at their kids in the 15 minutes prior to the festivities? 

Are we the only family to arrive at this Celebration of the Season with more than 50% of us grumpy? 

Is my three-year old really going to throw herself around like a rag doll and shriek like the monkey she wishes she were for the entire program, causing lots of people to toss sympathetic smiles and delighted giggles my way, people who don't have to attempt to keep her from launching off one of the pews, falling off of a kneeler, or crashing into the banister, and can therefore think she is just adorable? Am I the only one who thinks she is a pain in the ass?

You call this a happy family? Why do we have to have all these kids?* 

* * * 

Am I really that neurotic of a mother to notice all of these imperfections? Don't answer that one. 

* * * 

Can there be anything more touching than seeing an emerging young man in his Christmas finery, walking with dignity down the street, hands in pocket, keeping distance from the younger ones, establishing his fledgling maturity? 

Can anything be cuter than a cadre of kindergartners singing and signing "Mary had a baby, oh Lord; Mary had a baby, oh my Lord; Mary had a baby, oh Lord; the people keep a-comin' and the train done gone!" 

Can she look any more heartbreakingly lovely in her brand new glasses, my little Miss 20-20? 

Is anything more important than trying, however imperfectly, to show up for your kids, and battle the stress, and rage against the commercial machine, and offer them the gift of Christmas, the gift of Christ, the gift of loving each other, however imperfectly, so that at the end of the evening, when one of them comes downstairs in tears, unable to describe the sadness, just overwhelmed and confused by the intensity of emotion he is feeling, you can set aside your own exhaustion and your own irritation at the stresses and curveballs that came your way today, and you can hold him and tell him that you know how he feels and that you've felt that way too, and it's because he has such a big, good heart that he feels that way and because the excitement of the holiday season can be just plain overwhelming? Because if you can do that, and then offer him his first taste of egg nog, you'll be able to send him to bed peacefully, and he will thank you and tell you he loves you, and in an instant, you will call this a happy family. 

* * * 

*with gratitude to George Bailey of Bedford Falls, NY

Giving Tuesday is Here!

Today is Giving Tuesday!

Yes, I know you've heard of Black Friday.  Maybe even Small Business Saturday.  Betcha know what Cyber Monday is.

All of those are designed to line the pockets of for profit enterprises.  For profit enterprises are wonderful: without them, I wouldn't have my Racer 5, my nice writing instruments, this computer I'm tapping away one, the hand-knit irish sweater I'm wearing…you get the idea.

But what about a day for non-profit enterprises?  They deserve some love too, right?  RIGHT!

That's what Giving Tuesday is, a new day for giving back and for celebrating our national generosity and good will.  Certainly you can think of a cause or two worth your time and money, yes?

And if not, I've got one for you!  Envision Education -- an amazing organization that transforms the lives of students, especially those who are the first in their families to go to college, by giving them great schools that will prepare them for success in college and in life.  That linky-loo up there will take you to a special Giving Tuesday message and video from Envision, inviting you to make a donation to them.

Your gift will help minority and other underserved students succeed in college and be able to pursue their dreams.  In other words, your gift to them is a gift to our entire national community.

Celebrate Giving Tuesday with your time, talent, and treasures: find a worthy cause and give it some love.

Go forth generously…

* * *

#GivingTuesday

You know have a big family when...

…your daughter comes downstairs sleepy-headed, and the first words out of her mouth are: "Did my lemonade survive the night?"

* * *

This Is What It Takes

I've created a monster.

Little T's fall back activity is watching TV, and it's all my fault.  When dad's not around to help out, TV is the quickest, most expedient way to get rid of her, so I can do all of the other things I have to do around here.  It's not as if I'm pawning off my kid so I can be lazy and have fun.  I'm not eating bon-bons, or catching up on Duck Dynasty, or internet shopping, or FB-chatting with Janelle.

Okay, some of the time, I'm FB-chatting with Janelle.

But mostly, I'm doing exciting things like sorting through piles of school papers, doing laundry, washing dishes, planning meals, and paying bills.  In order to do all of that and more, I've been letting her watch too much TV.  Only now, we are paying the price, in the form of tantrums when she hears the word 'NO.'  It's not a little horrifying.

So with my resolve steely and my hopes high, I decided NO TV for Little T this morning.  Here's what it took for me, assisted by her sisters, to keep her occupied.

No TV, but my house is destroyed/festooned and I'm blotto-exhausted.  Every single one of those activities still needs to be cleaned up and put away.  Turns out, creativity is messy, inefficient, loud and time-consuming.  And awesome.

At least we have started the long slow process of turning the TV-addiction ship around.    I predict I need to have 327 more mornings like this to truly break the habit.

And so, another epic battle begins: who will win???

* * *

NaBloPoMo Fail

Blame the Thanksgiving food coma, and the long car ride home, and the multiple glasses of wine.  Blame the kids, just because that's always a good strategy.  Blame my husband, who didn't keep me from crashing on my pillows fully clothed last night.  Blame my two comfy pillows.

This is me, right after we arrived home from my sister-in-law's, just under 2 hours away, where we enjoyed an epic feast and tons of running-with-cousins time:

"I'll just lie here for a minute, until the bathroom is free, and 

then after I use the bathroom, I'll blog…"

<. . . a few minutes later . . . >

"ZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz……"

And just like that.  My dreams of NaBloPoMo glory: all dashed.  No post for November 28, 2013.  So, so close to the finish line.  Thwarted by wine and children.  (Actually, maybe that could be the title for my memoirs!)

Since Thanksgiving proved to be my NaBloPoMo downfall, I feel the need to look back on the day and salvage it somehow.  Here, then, are 7 Reasons Why Thanksgiving Still Rocked, Even Though I Failed NaBloPoMo On That Day.

1.  Because I read this clip from The Colbert Report, and it made me laugh:

"It's time to gear up for Thanksgiving. I love it all. The food, the family, the laughing, the drinking, the 'No wonder your wife left you, Margaret,' the 'That's not the proper word for Asians, Nana,' the 'Everybody help clean up Mom's locked herself in the laundry room with a bottle of Chardonnay.' It's a special time."

2.  Because of baby cousins!

A 4 month old baby WHO IS NOT MINE fell asleep on my lap after dinner last night, and I got to snuggle with him, and love him, and kiss him, and all the good baby-stuff, and I didn't have to think about changing him, feeding him, or pacifying him, didn't have to worry about when he might sleep, what he should eat, or who he might spit up on, and DID get to hand him back to his mommy right when he woke up.

3.  Because of family.

Baby cousins are definitely the cutest, but seeing family of all ages, who we don't get to see nearly enough, was just plain great.  Watching all the kids, ranging in age from 3 to 15, run around together, and listening to the entirely predictable but completely wonderful exclamations from adults about how much all the kids have grown, commiserating with my niece who has a child a lot like Little T, and listening to Grandma tell my kids stories about their dad when he was little…all of it was priceless.

4.  Because of my youngest kid, who cracked us up on the drive to my sister-in-law's house:

Little T was in the way back of our Volvo station wagon, and apparently it was  a little hot back there.  Here is just one of the Little T gems that wafted up to us from the back of the car: "I'm dyin' back here!  You're gonna get there and have a little 7 year old dead body to deal with!  Water!  I need water!!"

5.  Because of family conversations.

A few blocks from our destination, Rick and I geared up for the "rules of good behavior" lecture.  Here's how it went:

Me: "OK, kids, who wants to tell us what the rules are going to be for today?"

Cenzo: "Don't act like ourselves?"

Lola: "Blah, blah, blah, be good, blah blah…"

Sam: "Pretend we like each other.  That's it.  OK, everyone, let's pretend to like each other."

Little T: "I love you, Sam.  That's a great hat!"

Mom and Dad: "Right.  Don't act like yourselves, pretend to like each other, and say please and thank you.  That covers it!"

6.  Because seriously?  The turkey.

My brother-in-law made the most delicious turkey I have ever tasted in my entire life.  It was so moist and juicy!  He used an electric roasting pan, like I've used for mine when we've hosted, but he made that thing sing, and he has now set the turkey bar extremely high.  Henceforth, all turkeys shall be judged against the 2013 Turkey That Changed Forever The Way I Think About Turkey.

It was that good.  It was that worth being so triptofanned-out that I slept through the last few hours of the day, when I should have been blogging.

7.  Because of PIE!

I may not have written a blog post yesterday, but I woke up to pie.  For breakfast, I had a heaping slice of pumpkin pie, covered in whipped cream, and suddenly, NaBloPoMo seemed just a little less important.  Further proof that:

I don't have NaBloPoMo bragging rights, but I have pie, so I think I win.

* * *

10 Things I Am Grateful For

I have only 16% power left on my laptop and I'm too tired and comfy to get up and find the power cord, so I better rip off a thankful list right quick.  And so:

1. NPR.  My life would be less than it is without everyone at NPR.  Thank you from the bottom of my well-informed heart.
2. Coffee.  My children would be in danger without coffee.  Thank you for keeping me sane, which in turn, keeps them safe.
3. Good pillows.  Nothing feels better than laying down my weary head to rest each night.  I usually sleep with two pillows, but one of them has been missing for weeks.  I finally found it in the dolly crib today, and I'm back to pillow bliss tonight.
4. Friends who give pie.  Every Thanksgiving, some friends of our give us pumpkin pies from Bake Sale Betty.  This year, I am especially grateful for these pies because we are not hosting Thanksgiving, and I get to bring the pies to my sister-in-law's house tomorrow, meaning I did. not. bake. or. cook. a. single. thing.  I like to cook, and I've enjoyed hosting in the past, but this year?  It's a blessing of monumental proportions that I don't have to do a damn thing.
5. This blog.  Because I get to write about whatever I want, silly, fun, serious, thoughtful, boring, or sentimental, and it's MINE ALL MINE.  And I like it when people like what I've written.  That's pretty awesome.
6. My awesome job.  I love my job.  I have a job I love, doing things I am good at, learning things that are helping me grow, with people I respect, in a family-friendly environment, for a good cause.  See?  Awesome.
7. My kids.  Seriously, yes, even the kids.  They are impossible.  But I guess that's why I'm grateful, because they show me that the impossible is possible, every single day.  Sometimes, that runs more towards the "Is she REALLY going to refuse to put away the Rush Hour game, just to mess with me?  Is she REALLY going to take the smallest possible steps between here and the bathroom to brush her teeth, just to see my head spin around on top my neck???"  Sometimes, it's more of the heart-catching variety, where I see a child of mine do something good and generous, or I get to the end of the day and realize I did more good than harm (score!), or the questions they ask challenge and stretch me as I try to answer them and then the gift of a great conversation comes my way…all of it seems impossible.  All of it happens anyway.
8. My husband.  Not because he makes delicious pizza, and delicious hot toddies, and awesome old-fashioneds; not because he vacuums like a maniac; not because he makes sure all the doors are locked and lights are off each night.  Because he is the other half of me and I know he's mine forever.   We are not a fairy-tale husband and wife; we annoy each other greatly pretty frequently and his snoring alone makes me want to rip my ears off my head and serve them to him for breakfast.  But he's not going anywhere, and I'm not going anywhere, and I'm grateful that he is my constant.  
9. My mother and father.  Five days ago, we moved my mother into a board and care facility; it was one of the hardest days I've ever had with my parents, one of the hardest they've ever had themselves.  I am grateful for the privilege of being present to them both during the past several months of struggle.
10. The ability to change the wi-fi password.  Because nothing says I love you to my sons like turning off the wi-fi in the middle of an Instagram post so they can get some sleep and keep growing strong and healthy.  

She Sings, Too!

She's not all sass and tantrums, ya' know:

* * *

Sudden Flashes of Understanding

I’m getting older, and sometimes, I get a little bummed about that.  You know how you hear people talk about how life gets richer and more enjoyable as we age?  Sometimes – usually – I have no idea what they are talking about.

Today, for some reason, a poem I have not read in years started rattling around in my head.  I don’t know why.  Perhaps because this past weekend, I took a picture of a lovely tree in my mother and father’s back yard: 

The poem didn’t arrive until two days later though, so maybe they’re not related.  Either way, the poem arrived, and was, honestly, a little annoying.  I didn’t particularly like this poem when I read it in college.  In fact, the first time I read it, I didn’t understand why it was considered a great poem.  It is sweet, and rhyme-y, and it’s about nature.  Like a kajillion other poems.  Other than that, it did nothing for me.

But there it was, rattling around in my noggin, kind of gnawing at me because I could only remember the first two lines and even then, not quite accurately.  I Googled it, just to figure it out and hopefully be done with it.

I found it, and read it, and it did something for me this time.  Not only did the words now leap off of the page and grab me by the heart, but they also made me grateful that I am getting older and have learned maybe just enough to appreciate this poem:

Trees, by Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree. 



A tree whose hungry mouth is prest 


Against the earth's sweet flowing breast; 



A tree that looks at God all day, 


And lifts her leafy arms to pray; 



A tree that may in summer wear 


A nest of robins in her hair; 



Upon whose bosom snow has lain; 


Who intimately lives with rain. 



Poems are made by fools like me, 


But only God can make a tree.

My younger self knew nothing about feeding a hungry mouth from her own body.  Nothing about needing to lift her arms to pray.  Nothing about striving to see God all around her.  She didn’t know about the miracle of birds’ nests, or have a clue about intimacy. 

She knew nothing, and that poem couldn’t touch her.

My today self knows a little bit about all of those things, and Joyce Kilmer’s words set off chords and tones and timbers that sort of swept me off my feet.  Bring on the days and weeks and years ahead.  If getting older means that I will have a day every now and then in which I am surprised by poems, by beauty I’ve never seen before, then let me grow older and grow stronger.   Let me be surprised by sudden flashes of understanding and gratitude. 

* * *

Neither Credit Nor Blame

I'd happily accept your praise

For mothering on my bestest days.

But if I do, then I also must

Bear the brunt of your disgust

When mommy's rules you do not like

And you'd like to see me take a hike.

You're a fickle bunch, you see,

Shifting sands, your thoughts of me.

So I'll eschew the credit and blame

For the never-ending Parenting Game.

Come to me in fifteen years:

We'll work things out over well-poured beers.

Sonoma Album

* * *

Blame Jennifer Lawrence

I'm taking my daughter to see Catching Fire tonight.  I have never, ever, in my entire life, gone to see a movie on the same day it comes out.  I kind of wish I were doing this Opening Night thing for something I really wanted to see, but it will be fun to share this experience with my daughter, who has read all the books and is wildly mad for all things Hunger Games.

My husband and I drew straws for who got to/had to go.  I won/lost.

I had intended to buy tickets for the 6:45 show.  At 1pm today, those tickets were sold out.  So like a complete crazy person, I went ahead and bought tickets for the 9:50 show.  

10pm show.  For a 2.5 hour movie.  With my 11 year old.  When I have to be up early tomorrow.

I've lost my mind.

I was going to have today's NaBloPoMo post be about spending a rare evening out with my oldest daughter, but just realized that if I wait until we get home, I will miss the midnight deadline.   Instead, I'll just have to guess what the evening will be like.  Here's how I think it's going to go:

• Really happy girl-child.
• Compelling story.
• Pretty good acting.
• Decent emotional engagement.
• Great atmosphere.  (couches…pizza…beer…movies…natch!)
• Time well spent with the girl-child.

Verdict: Great night!  Great movie!  Grab you daughter and go see it!

Let's hope I'm not catching zzzz's before the credits roll.

* * *

Not a very exciting post, but a 11/22/13 post nonetheless.  Blame Jennifer Lawrence.

* * *

Desperation Is the Mother of Effectiveness

My teenage son made cookies tonight, the kind you just break apart and put on a cooking tray.

It would have been great, except for the bothering his sister part.  That part made it really NOT great.  She was in there making tea for the youngest one (nice, right?) and he was hassling every move she made.

Nothing I said got him to stop.  I tried attacking the problem from different angles.  I tried being creative.  I tried being stern.  Epic failures,every one.  All I could do was sit in the living room, wallowing in PMS and thrashing about with high, high levels of irritation.

I felt powerless to stop him.

And then, I realized I had a weapon!  I had an arrow in my sling, and I was going to use it.  I called him, calmly, into the living room.

Me: "Son.  Do you know what PMS is?"

Son: horrified look

Me: "Do you???"

Son, with worried, horrified look intensifying: "Yeee-ee-ee-s?"

Me: "Well, that's what I'm suffering from right now. It's not pretty.  It's not fun."

Son, stunned silence.  If eyes could beg a person to stop talking, his would have been doing just that.

Me: "So get back in there and make it work with your sister."

Son: "OK OK OK OK OK Please don't ever tell me that ever again!  I'll be good I promise!"

It worked like a charm: no more bickering or hassling.

As I munched on my warm peanut butter cookie, I enjoyed the peace and quiet, and wondered to myself if I had used my arrow on a worthy target.  That particular arrow can’t be used very often. 

I hope I chose wisely.

WHY did I agree to this?

Why oh why oh why, on a school night, with five players needing to do homework, with 9 to 5 work needing to be done outside of the 9 to 5 framework, with dishes multiplying, and laundry threatening world domination, and dinner barely manageable, and a 6th grader needing to find a missing school book, and a 1st grader needing to go to the SuperKids website to read or some such nonsense (a site where she always manages to do SOMETHING to the screen so that all the words and images get HUGE and I can't get them back down to normal size and I try and I try and then give up and she has to start all over), with too too much already going on…

…WHY did I agree to let my 9 year old make bread?

We're not talking bread-maker bread, here.

We're talking knead the dough, knead the dough, knead the dough, let it rise, punch it down, let it rise, no breeze, covered in cloth, warm place, up high, NO BREEZE MOM, b-r-e-a-d.

It's about to go in the oven.

We shall see what happens.

With that much chaos, these loaves of bread have been thrown together in a distinctly haphazard fashion.  Measuring cups?  Not so much.  Thorough kneading?  Not so much.  No breeze?  Kinda breezy in that kitchen.  No order, no clean surfaces, no well-run kitchen.  Definitely not a Martha Stewart, Pinterest worthy evening; it was messy, loud, and stressful.  Just like my family.

It might taste terrible.  It might be delicious.  It was definitely exhausting.

* * *

30 minutes later:

Lady E's Loafs of Love

* * *

30 more minutes later, the verdict:  It was lumpy, lovely, warm and wonderful.  Just like my family.

* * *

Family Classics

It's a rainy day here in the San Francisco Bay Area, the first one in ever so long.  We Bay Area folk have been packing sun hats and sun block to our soccer games even through this past weekend.  It's been crazy and wonderful and warmish.  

But the lovely grayness is wonderful too.  How could it not be wonderful to live near this?

It's pretty awesome.

But even more awesome?  That crazy confluence of events when no one (well, almost no one) has soccer practice, and all (ok, most) of the children finish their homework early, and someone asks to watch a movie, and then they all agree on a classic, and daddy builds a fire…

…and while daddy makes homemade pizza in the kitchen, we watch Singing in the Rain in a cozy house with raindrops dancing on the windows and car wheels swishing by on a rainy street.

Pure gold!

I screw up plenty as a mama.  I yell too much.  I don't have enough patience.  Or energy.  Or hutzpah.  Or clean socks.  But one thing we've done well around here is that we've shared some fantastic old movies with our kids, and they now love and cherish them as much as we do.  

As the Holidays approach, and the cold and rainy weather make movie nights even more appealing than usual, I present you with a list of movies my family loves, for you to watch with yours.  These movies are gems…as are the moments I've spent watching them with my children.  Get ready to watch some wonderfulness!

1. Singing in the Rain 
2. Annie Get Your Gun
3. Apple Dumpling Gang
4. To Kill a Mockingbird
5. It's A Wonderful Life
6. Some Like It Hot
7. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
8. Carol Burnett DVDs--ALL OF THEM!
9. Where the Red Fern Grows

What are some of your favorite old time movies to share with your kids?

* * *

I needed a night like this.

Simply and Only

I wrote a brief post not long ago about my mother's declining health.  Since then, she has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, or some other similar neurodegenerative condition.  It has been a difficult autumn for all of us, especially and of course, for my mother and father, for whom this suffering is a daily, hourly, minute-by-minute experience.

The utter unfairness of dementia takes my breath away.  The seeming annihilation of dignity and selfhood feels like a punch in the stomach.  The contradiction -- the desire to be present juxtaposed against the desire to run and hide -- is painful and confusing.

And everything is happening so fast.  We have no time to get used to any new normal, no time to make adjustments to our expectations.  There can be no expectations anymore.

What is left for us, in this moment, before things are as bad as they have the potential to get, while my mother is both suffering the effects of dementia and painfully aware that everything is going wrong?

Perhaps the lesson of dementia is that what we are left with is what is at the core of every relationship we have.  What we are left with is learning that dignity is not ability, or composure, or mental quickness, or eloquence, or any of the things that we miss in the person we love who suffers from dementia.  What we are left with is simply and only being present, without any agenda or purpose or need.  

What would happen if we were present to everyone in our lives this way, not for any other purpose but to show the depth of love we feel?

I have no idea what I am talking about.  I am sad, and scared, and I want my mother.

* * *

Empanada-palooza

Goodness gracious, it's once again past 11pm and I have not yet posted anything in this month of NaBloPoMo madness.

I spent several hours tonight making a crazy amount of empanadas.  I made a large batch for my office Thanksgiving Feast/Potluck tomorrow…I made more for dinner tonight…I made more for school lunches tomorrow.  Hence: empanada-palooza.

So, since empanadas are the reason I have nothing more interesting or thought provoking to post, I will share my empanada pastry and filling recipes.  They are mouthwatering good.  Try them, and then come tell me what you think of them!


Cream Cheese Pastry
Recipe Credit: My friend Starr.  She's amazing.

8 tblsp (one stick) butter at room temp
4 oz cream cheese at room temp
1/4 cup heavy cream
1 1/2 cups plus 2 tblsp flour

1. Process butter, cream cheese, and cream in food processor or by hand (it takes longer by hand and it is harder to combine).
2. Next add flour, process until just combined, and divide the dough into 2 equal balls. Wrap in plastic and chill for at least 30 minutes.
3. After the dough is chilled, roll out and cut into 5" discs (if you don't have cutters a top of a plastic tupperware, or bowl will work).
4. Preheat oven 375 and make your filling.

Empanada Filling

Recipe Credit: PBS Kitchen Explorers

1 lb. ground beef, turkey, or vegetarian ground “meat”

1 medium yellow onion, finely chopped

3/4 tsp. salt

1/4 tsp. garlic powder

3/4 tsp. cinnamon

1/4 tsp. cumin

1/8 tsp. ground cloves

2 Tbsp. balsamic vinegar

1. In a large heavy skillet, brown the meat and onions over medium-high heat.
2. Once the meat is browned (about 5 minutes) add the salt, garlic powder, cinnamon, cumin, cloves, and vinegar, and simmer it for about 10 minutes. 
3. Remove it from the heat and let cool for awhile.

Assembling the empanadas

1. Add stuffing to one half of each disc, and leave an edge.
2. Wet the edge with water; fold over and press the edges with a fork. 
3. Put on cookie sheet (parchment paper is optional but easy to clean up). 
4. Make an egg wash (beat one egg with teaspoon of water) and brush all pastries before you put them into the oven. 
5. Cook about 20-25 minutes (check for your taste of browning)

I think this makes about 14-16 smallish empanadas…maybe around 10 larger ones…I always double, triple or quadruple this recipe because of the numbers of mouths I have to feed.  No matter how many I make, I never get to eat as many as I would like.  So actually, the first step in this recipe should be amended to: 

STEP ONE -- HAVE ONLY ONE CHILD SO YOU DO NOT HAVE TO SHARE THESE EMPANADAS WITH TOO MANY PEOPLE.

After you have done all of the above, get ready for everyone at your office Thanksgiving Potluck -- well…everyone except the vegetarians and the gluten-free eaters -- to oooooh and aaaaah over your culinary impressiveness.

Bon appetite!

* * *

So that I make it by midnight...

This photo doesn't tell the story of my day, which started at 7am and involved driving 200 miles for a State Cup soccer game (and victory), and had me doing everything from changing pee soaked sheets to laundering fancy clothes for my son to wear to a Quincenneara, and shopping for toilet paper, and getting stuck in massive traffic on my way to Gotham City...

...but it captures how it ended.  At Original Joe's in San Francisco, with my wonderful father, and many wonderful conversations. 

I don't need Thanksgiving on November 28. Just had mine. 

* * * 

Whew!  Just made it for NaBloPoMo!  

* * *