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Sunday, January 01, 2006

Forgotten Stories and a Resolution 

I don't quite know what I'm resolving to do better/more/less/whatever during 2006, but I will resolve, for those out there on the Internets who care, to aim to blog more in real time and to do less of remembering the past days or weeks later, as I ended up doing for both Thanksgiving and Christmas.

I'm sure I will have some posts during 2006 that are remembrances of things past, but if I can do like I did on the Montana trip and at least rough out entries when I can't blog immediately then maybe I won't forget things ... like these two stories from Christmas and Thanksgiving respectively.

Christmas Karma

This is the first forgotten story: On the Tuesday after Christmas, my brother-in-law M--- and I were both running in and out of the house loading up our respective cars for the trips home — presents, luggage, snacks for the ride, etc. It had been cold overnight and there was a slight dusting of snow and a little bit of ice, but not too bad.

When M---, M--- and K--- were ready to go and in the car, my mother-in-law, M--- (hurm, the "initial-dash-dash-dash" construction I use for other's names can get confusing at times), ran out to wave good-bye and slipped a little. She came back inside and told my father-in-law, R---, that it was very slippery out there and quite dangerous. R--- pointed out that M--- was wearing slippers and that was probably part of the problem; being a wiseacre, I made a few comments in the same vein — after all, I'd just made about 50 quajillion trips back and forth loading up the T.R.U.C.K.

And this is where the Christmas karma comes into play. The very next trip out to the car, carrying a fragile present, the diaper bag, and a third bag ... I went flying on the steps. Nothing broke (on me or in the bags), but it was embarrassing and, I found out when we got back to Maryland, yielded my second giant butt bruise of 2005.

Quality Fat

This is the second forgotten story: On our first evening in Louisiana during the Thanksgiving trip, my mother and I were in the kitchen talking about what was in the house for Celeste to eat. My mother kept offering turkey, ham, etc., while I was asking about chickpeas, veggie burgers, etc.

We're not necessarily raising Celeste vegetarian — Evelin isn't vegetarian and we do occasionally have meat in the house — but since I do the majority of our cooking, and because I am a vegetarian, most of our meals are vegetarian. (Evelin just corrected me: All of our meals are vegetarian; she just supplements with meat at times ... especially when eating out.)

Vegetarianism remains out of the mainstream, especially in South Louisiana, so I always get at least a few comments when I'm back home, but this time my mother was worried about Celeste getting all the nutrition she needs. To assuage her concerns, I pointed to Celeste and asked my mother if it looked like Celeste was failing to thrive.

Her reply: "Well, there's fat, and then there's quality fat."

In the end, Celeste had a scrambled egg with cheese. And everything about her is quality.

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