Silver Dollar Pancakes and A Dino Dog

Happy Belated New Year. 2010 has presented me with at least two happy things this first week.

The Silver Dollar Pancake Pan

When my nine-year old nephew Alex comes to visit we have a regular routine. In the evening we change into comfy PJs, play a board game of some sort, ideally one that requires “thinking”,   such as Sequence or Blokus). The game is usually followed by a movie with either animation or amazing transformer-like special effects.

In the morning, Alex wakes up early and uses his best charm and puppy dog face to convince us to play another board game while the coffee is brewing. After the grown ups gulp a quick cup, and Alex drinks a glass of milk, its off to a local diner for a breakfast, where Alex always orders silver dollar pancakes. He will even special order them if they are not on the menu.  I suspect my Dad, Alex’s grandfather, introduced him to this breakfast delicacy, as I have fond memories of these ordering these little pancakes when I was a girl. Now, thanks to Crate and Barrel, instead of heading out into the cold, we can stay in our PJs and make perfect tiny pancakes at home.

A Dino Dog Coat

Max would never tolerate a dog coat, but with a little effort and a doggie tranquilizer or two, I may just be able to wrangle him into one of these. His nickname is, after all, Maximus Rex.

For more details on this particular dino dog coat, check out Crazy Aunt Purl’s latest post.

The More Things Change…

1968, sitting beneath my Grandmother’s Christmas tree, it really doesn’t seem that long ago. And believe it or not, I remember wearing those snazzy red shoes. Even at age two, I knew a cool pair of shoes when I saw them.

A Long Week

It’s been a long week. Actually, it’s been a long three weeks. This week I’ve been dealing with a “family emergency”. That’s how I’ve been describing it to all those clients and potential clients I’ve had to reschedule. Last week I was in Boston, attending a three-day conference. Week before that I was in Toronto, ostensibly for work, but mostly looking out for the Yarn Harlot.

So the details. Not that you need them, but I need to write them.

Just about a week ago my Dad was admitted to the hospital with a serious case of pneumonia. He’s 72 and diabetic – a man who loves to eat and does not follow his doctor’s instructions well at all. It’s been a week where I’ve learned just how broken our U.S. health care system is. (Who can help? McCain, Obama, anyone??)

I spent two days spent working out the details of signing his health care proxy form, designating me as his health care agent. A time during which not one hospital nurse, physicians’ assistant, or even orderly would give me the time of day. Apparently HIPAA regulations do not allow daughters to be informed of their parents’ health situations. I was fuming. Oddly, the HIPAA restrictions magically disappear when a patient is discharged. Days of no information culminated in reams of paperwork and chaotic instructions for care, upon my Dad’s release from the hospital.

This was soon followed by the pharmacy battle, wherein the daughter delivers prescriptions, Medicare refuses to pay, the patient’s primary care doctor disagrees with the hospital’s instructions, (at 4 PM on Halloween no less) and the daughter is left standing at CVS, confused, befuddled, and then ready to kill.

In the end, most of the prescription issues were resolved, and Dad is settled in his apartment happily eating sugar-free Jello with pineapple while watching Bargain Hunt on BBC America. Daughter is finally home, sipping red wine from a balloon sized glass, finally catching up on blogs and reading about knitting. A long week indeed.

Halloween Memories

Very few trick-or-treaters come to our house. We live on a short little dead-end street, right off a main route, which is full of whizzing cars and dotted with strip malls and fast food joints. I’m waiting for the doorbell to ring, and trying to remember all the halloween costumes I wore as a kid. Here’s a partial list.

• Casper the Friendly Ghost – I can still remember how the mask made my face all steamy.
• Geisha – wearing an authentic kimono that someone had given my parents. Probably purchased by a drunken sailor at a cheap souvenior shop, during liberty in some Asian port. Like most families, we had our share of drunken sailors.
• Birthday Present – my own creation, a large box, covered in shiny yellow and red wrapping paper, with holes for my arms and a giant bow on my head. It was hard to move my arms. In fact, that was the year some big kid stole by pumpkin full of candy. I was the perfect target, utterly defenseless.
• Princess – another plastic ’70s mask and sweaty face. Much like the masks worn at Fenway earlier this year.
• Statue of Liberty – a green sheet, a handmade paper torch, and a Burger King crown wrapped in tin foil.
• Cowardly Lion – a “real” costume, with a swinging tail and a furry mane, sewn by my Aunt Mary, worn the year before by my cousin Steven.
• Gypsy – many scarves, a lacy shawl, peasant skirt, hoop earrings and bangles.
• Baseball Player – my cousin Steven’s old little league uniform. Much, much too big for me.

Hey, there’s a knock on the door! Gotta run. Happy Halloween!

Bershon

Sara defined it. Dooce asked for commentary. I couldn’t resist offering my own examples.

I’m on the left, in full-blown bershon mode. My sister, four and a half years younger, has not yet been afflicted.

But just a few years later, she is the latest victim and the symptoms are undeniable.

A Yarn Addict – The Early Days

On Father’s Day, my dad visited. A week or so before I’d asked him if I could look through a few of his old photo albums. I was looking for one or two pictures of my mother.

Since Dad never does anything in a small way, he not only brought the albums I’d asked about, he brought EVERY photo album he owns. All packed nicely in a gigantic green rubbermaid tub, held together with two bungee cords to keep the top from popping off.

It’s been amazing sorting through all these old pictures. Each one brings me back to a time or place I’d almost forgotten. A simple snapshot suddenly makes vivid the people, places, sounds, and even scents, that up until that moment were gone from my mind completely.

Knitters, I know you will appreciate this one. It is circa 1970. I’m proudly modeling a very lovely pink and red Red Heart acrylic poncho, made by my very talented Babchie. Without her, I wouldn’t be the knitting obsessed woman I am today. She taught me how to cast-on, knit, purl, and cast-off, starting me off on a lifetime of knitting enjoyment.

I am a Proud Soccer Aunt

No knitting update today, I was much too busy with other things. Today my nephew played in his very first soccer game. Do you think he was excited? I arrived at his house an hour and half before game time to find him running down the street, already wearing his uniform, ready to go.

He was fantastic. Although for his age group there is no official score, you can bet his family was keeping count. Seven goals! There was much hootin’ and hollerin’ as he zipped and zoomed up and down the field. Great job kiddo!

And isn’t it wonderful to share your first game with your Dzia Dzia (pronounced “Ja Ja”, which is how we say grandfather in Polish).