Happy New Year!

For some reason I'm having trouble posting photos to the system right now, which is rather unfortunate because I'm compiling a Year In Photos entry that's comprised almost entirely of pictures, just like I did last year at this time.

Hmmmm....frustrating.

And we're moments away from heading to the mountains for a sledding and snowball break, so it looks like you'll be getting your photo post sometime in early 2007.

So, as Finney would say:

We wish you a Merry Christmas,
We wish you a Merry Christmas,
We wish you a Merry Christmas,
And a Happy You Near!

Thanks For Playing

So I guess I'll never know what priceless words were uttered between Santa Claus and my son on that early December afternoon when I took these photos, but thanks for all the great suggestions.

And let me just say that fart jokes just never get old, do they?

But I strayed from the scatological and crashed straight into the endlessly entertaining notion of Santa Gone Bad by selecting Admiral as the first-prize winner in this year's holiday captions contest. Congratulations! I should have a Mickey's Wide Mouth and a chocolate Easter Bunny in the mail to you shortly.

I know, I know, from the look of the comments section it appears that Admiral won because he was the only person to actually enter; but I also received a handful of entries that were sent directly to my personal e-mail address. It should all make you feel a little warm and fuzzy that bribery, flatulence and misogyny were all cast aside in favor of a little old fashioned inebriation.

Hope you had yourself a Merry Little Christmas.

Preschool Christmas Crafts

Merry Christmas!

Images taken at Crystal Cove State Beach & Historical District in Newport Beach, CA on December 22nd and 23rd, 2006.

Reminder

Thanks to everyone who has left their caption suggestions here and e-mailed them to me directly for the 2006 Holiday Captions Contest.

For the rest of you, you've got until the end of Christmas day--that's just around the corner!--to take your best shot at winning.

Prize(s) for the winner(s) and lumps of coal for anyone who doesn't at least take a shot at it.

C'mon, don't be Grinchy; you know you wanna own this sucker.

They Both Clean Up Real Nice

The Future Is Now

Much of parenthood has been much more intense--both good and bad--than I ever imagined it to be.

And I'm not just talking about the whole intensity of labor and delivery, although, WOW! That was some pretty life- (and body-) changing stuff.

I'm talking about sustained intensity.

The long nights with infants, for example, were longer and more trying than I could have ever imagined, while the constant messes are more constant than I would prefer and the temper tantrums more maddening than I thought possible.

By the same token, the depth of my love and devotion to my children -- step in front of an approaching wild animal to protect them? No problem. Is that all you got? -- is in reality more profound than I ever could have anticipated. Sometimes it takes me by surprise just how full they've made my life, and how eerily different -- even two-dimensional by comparison -- it now seems before they arrived.

Some of the things about parenthood I've looked forward to since I was a child myself, being parented by others. Specific things, like taking them to the beach, watching baseball games, and hearing them tell me about school, have been just what I thought they would be: magical in their momentousness.

And school pageants.

I'm one of those people who just LOVES watching kids perform in school singalongs, plays, talent shows, chorus recitals, etc. You name it. What sounds to many like a front-row, folding-chair seat in Hell is a high point of spectator joy for me. And the more flubs and mistakes the better, I say. I adore the earnest attempt at showmanship, regardless of the results.

Something about the sound of small children singing in unison makes me think of hope.

So you can probably understand why I was a little frustrated last year when my firstborn child passed on the opportunity to perform in his Very First School Holiday Performance.

And you'll be able to understand how fulfilling it was to watch him, a year older and more confident, join his classmates at the front of the chapel to perform a nativity scene and sing holiday carols this year.

It was just as good as I always knew it would be.

Completely Addicting

We don't get any snow where I live. But I've been making my own snowflakes here all morning.

No cutting yourself on scissors, no mess, and if you make a cut you don't like you can just "redo" it.

Awesome.

(Thanks, once again, to www.kottge.org, for finding and sharing the coolest stuff evs.)

Our Newest Addition

Santa paid me an early visit this year and in my stocking I found myself a Really Nice Camera.



My last Really Nice Camera, which I still adore and bring out on special occasions, was a Christmas gift I received from my parents about 20 years ago, when I was a teenager enrolled in my high school's photography class. It's a piece of machinery I adore and when I dropped it--only once!--in the rush-hour bustle on Brompton Road in front of Harrods department store in London, I mentally kicked myself for months.

But if I thought I was protective of the first camera, I didn't fully yet know my own fierce, mother-lion instincts of protection for this newest baby. When I set it down it's as if the camera becomes a defenseless newborn in a house of ferocious tigers. When I go to bed at night, I check on the kids to make sure they're tucked in, then I make sure the camera's in a safe spot.

I still love my trusty old AE1 and will keep it tucked safely in my drawer, at the ready for those occasions that demand the rich coverage that only black and white film can provide. May it continue to click on for years to come.

And I'm still getting to know how the new camera works. I'm a bit of a purist and arrived fashionably late to the digital photography party, so bear with me as I click my way through the learning curve.

Just as I learned with my own children, though, there's always room in your heart for a second baby.

Christmas 2006 Captions Contest!

Put your funny hats on, folks, because it's time once again for a Double Duty Diary Captions Contest!

While visiting Santa Claus with the kids in early December, I managed to capture on my camera a hilarious exchange between Finnegan and Santa Claus. What I didn't manage to hear, though, was the conversation that unfolded between them to elicit their classic facial expressions. That's where I need your help.

Here's how the contest will work:

First, you'll need to choose a Version of the narrative that works best with your caption ideas.

For example, this is Version 1, wherein Finney pulls the first verbal punch but Santa Claus gets the last word:

And this is Version 2, wherein Santa Claus pulls the first verbal punch but Finnegan gets the last word:


(By the way, don't hesitate to choose Version 1 out of fear that I might take offense to Finney becoming the butt of the joke; if he's guilty of sassing off to Santa Claus, by all means good and right he should be put (gently) in his place. A boy needs to learn about the whole gift horse credo, after all, if he ever wants to work his way up Santa's Nice List to get an iPod when he's a recalcitrant teenager.)

Caption suggestions are due by the end of Christmas Day, 2006. Winner(s) will be chosen by my highly unscientific preference method (think WIT, folks -- make me think, make me laugh!), and will be announced sometime between Christmas and New Year's Eve. Prize(s) will be chosen and distributed by me, soon(ish) after the new year. Sorry, contest is only open to folks with mailing addresses in the United States.

When submitting your caption suggestions, please remember to indicate in which Version (1 or 2) you wish your captions to appear.

Good luck!

EDITED TO ADD: If multiple caption submissions end up being eerily similar in theme, the person who submitted their entry first will receive priority in judging. So get your captions in sooner rather than later!

Cookie, Cookie, Cookie Starts With C

I don't bake very often but when I do, it's usually Macaroons I'm pulling out of the oven. Over the years, after bringing countless plates full of the little buggers to parties and events, they've somehow become my signature cookie.

(Sideline trivia: When I was a wee Bobby Soxer, the very first organized softball team I ever played on was called the Macaroons. You know, because our jerseys were maroon. I never really understood that name because I had never eaten a Macaroon at that point in my life. I think someone brought a plate of Macaroons to our final game, but by then I had already parted ways with any concern I had for our team's name; that pitch had long been fouled off by then. Early in the season my Dad had suggested we go with the name Crimson Tide, but since Alabama's a long way from Southern California -- and because sixth-grade girls prefer chanting softball songs that include cutesie names -- that one never took flight. Either way, they were both confusing to my sheltered 12-year-old mind.)

Anyway, I'm asked so often for the recipe to these fabulous Macaroons that I thought it would be a great idea just to have it up here on the blog for all to see and reference as needed.

Full disclosure: This recipe, wonderfully straightforward in its simplicity, is not my own -- nor did it get passed down through the generations in my family. (I've got those, too, thankfully.) No, this one comes from the Barefoot Contessa herself, Ms. Ina Garten. And all you gluten-phobes will be happy to learn that it contains absolutely zero flour. But, oh, the sugar!

(My notes, in red, are tips I've used to improve the recipe over the years.)


COCONUT MACAROONS

14 ounces sweetened shredded coconut
14 ounces sweetened condensed milk
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 extra-large egg whites, at room temperature (really, they need to be at room temperature for best results)
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt (make sure it's kosher)

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F.

Combine the condensed milk and vanilla in a large bowl, then add the coconut to the mixture. In a separate bowl, whip the egg whites and salt on high speed until they make medium-firm peaks. Carefully fold the egg whites into the coconut mixture. (Be delicate with your folding; overdoing it will break down your whipped whites.)

Drop the batter onto sheet pans lined with parchment paper (an absolute must if you want to keep your cookies from burning), using either a 1 3/4-inch diameter ice cream scoop, or 2 teaspoons. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, until golden brown. Cool and serve.


Thanks to Jenn, who had the great idea to share holiday cookie recipes around the world by hosting the First Annual Virtual Cookie Exchange, and to Shannon for letting me know about it.

Harbor Cruise With The Big Guy In The Red Hat (And Santa, Too)

Fair Dinkum Congrats!

In my NaBloPoMo frenzy last month, I managed to overlook a joyous occasion:

The birth of a new snugglebunny.

And not just any little basket bug, either -- this one's an honest-to-goodness Aussie Sheila!



One month ago today, baby Connor's new cousin, Audrey Joan, was born in Sydney, Australia, to Jen, Andrew and big sister Georgia.

Happy one-month birthday, sweet girl!

Doing Our Part, Kleenex By Kleenex, To Boost Revenues At Kimberly-Clark

Shea's getting over being sick.

I'm sick.

John's getting sick.

Finn's just sick of all us sickies.

Because I don't want you to be bored, though, I've found some fun stuff to keep you occupied in our absence of entertainment:

In Vino Veritas: Hop on over to this great blog, which does nothing but sample and rate wines from Trader Joe's.

Call Me Pablo: At this site you can let your inner Picasso shine to make beaaaauuuuuuuutiful artwork.

Can You Wrap That Up To Go? Finally, you can do some advanced armchair traveling here and view a slew of amazing photographs of Southeast Asia.

Enjoy!

Yes, You Can Finally Open Day 1 On Your Advent Calendars

At Last

Well, I did it.


Thirty days in a row of blog postings and, aside from a few trying weekends, I have to say it wasn't that bad.

And I agree with Laid-Off Dad that it has made my freelance writing flow much easier now that my wheels are greased and running daily.

And I feel like you, dear reader, have been able to stay more informed in our little goings on here at Casa Double Duty.

And I read some fun new blogs and made contact with some kind new commenters (hi, guys!).

But I'm done with the daily posts for a while, and plan to give myself a bit of a breather in December as I prepare for -- and enjoy -- the holidays.

In the meantime, though, I can tease you with this:

Double Duty Diary will be hosting another fun CAPTION CONTEST in December, so don't forget to check back in to give us your snarkiest and wittiest entries. There will be fabulous prizes for the winner(s).

And lumps of coal for those Grinches out there who don't play.

When Molehills Need To Stay Molehills

Ah, the sweet renewal of slumber. Its forgiving clutches embraced me for nearly 11 hours last night, thanks to my sweet husband, who took over the kiddy/kitchen cleanup/bathtime/pajamas/book-reading/bedtime reins and let me go to bed early.

After feeling obscenely short on attention and patience all day, I knew my ticket was finally up when, around 6:30pm, I nearly had a breakdown when John was unable to procure from his wallet the $7.50 I requested for Finney's December lunch schedule, which was due today to his preschool director, in cash, and in exact change.

What do you mean you don't have any money in your wallet?
What if there was an emergency?
What type of example are you setting?
This is just unacceptable!
An egregious front to the sanctity of fatherhood and all it represents!

Nevermind that I always take care of getting the cash for Finn's lunches on my own and therefore threw John a complete curveball with my last-minute request.

And nevermind that I didn't have any money in my wallet, either, so I had no right to opine on the propriety of a parent toting an empty wallet.

Logic was out the door at this point, sipping a Mai Tai and laughing at my ridiculous internal histrionics.

Don't worry, I didn't say any of those asinine things to John, nor did I mean them. They just ran in a ticker-tape rant through my sleep-deprived mind. But I knew that, when I felt my lower lip begin to tremble and heard my voice crack when I simply replied, "Really, you don't have any money in there?" that it was time to hang it up for the day.

Today, thanks to a $5 bill from Grandma and 10 quarters from the laundry cabinet's change-recovery bucket, Finn's money was paid on time for his three Friday pizza lunches in December.

And John, I betcha, stopped at the ATM.

And I, feeling human once again, will do so, as well.

Thankfully, my inner ticker tape doesn't run a course straight to my mouth, or I'd be crafting a Mea Culpa this morning instead of a Mea So Silly.

Bllllleeeeeeehhhhhhh.....

So remember how I mentioned I'm assistant teaching at the local community college this semester? Well, it's been great. Great students, who have great energy, who make it a great experience overall.

Great, great, great.

Um, well. Yeah.

What's not so great is that I got home from class last night at 2am. Yes, the 2am that comes in the slow, still hours when only hungry newborns, shut-out bar patrons and insomniacs rule the world. We were on production deadline and last night was our last opportunity to wrap up a semester's worth of loose ends.

So that's it for me today. You can find me crumpled in a corner of the living room, if you need me, trying to sell the kids on watching yet another Disney DVD while I drool in my full-blown knowledge that I'm closer to 40 than 30. And far, far away from 20 -- the last time I could pull off all-nighters.

Thanks for playing.

Good Sport

On Their Way Home To Roost

For some reason the blogger system read this photo as a vertical, rather than as a horizontal -- the way it was shot.

I find the composition to be quite lovely this way.

So it stays.

Thanks For The Memories

Finn, whispering in my ear, hands cupped around his mouth for complete discretion:

"Mom, I have so many more memories than you.

I have about 100."

Moments later...

Finn, returning to my ear, whispering once again:

"Actually, I have about a gazillion memories, Mom."

Karin: "Wow, that's amazing, Finney. How many do you think I have?"

Finn: "Eight."

Turn! Turn! Turn!

Last year, when he was only three years old, Finney staunchly refused to participate in any and all holiday events at his preschool. No Halloween games without security in tow, no dining with the other pilgrims and Indians, and absolutely no dressing up as an angel or singing in the Christmas play.

I'm happy to say that time and familiarity have pleasantly seasoned our once-shy boy who, a year later, has been doing great at (which is to say actually taking part in), the extracurricular holiday events at his school.

On Halloween, he strolled on his own in the cake walk and proudly brought home a half-dozen frosted cupcakes as the winner.

And on Wednesday, not only did he leave behind his fear of wearing silly hats at the annual Thanksgiving banquet, he actually joined his classmates at the banquet table instead of hiding, quivering, behind the safety of my leg.



And he ate. And ate. And ate.



In fact, he was the last one of his class at the table--long after all the others had run off to play on the jungle gym and swing set--still macking down turkey, fruit, rolls, and sweet little toddler pieces of pumpkin pie.


What a difference a year makes.

Happy Thanksgiving!

10 Reasons Why I Love This Photo

1. My Mom, bless her heart, who was so happy to have her two kids in the same place and eager to capture the sunset, took this photo almost directly into the sun--with no idea of what shooting at that angle does to the visibility of one's subject(s).
2. If you look closely you can make out the Pacific Ocean in the background, right as the sun finally dipped into it for the night.
   
3. Since my brother had just spent countless hours in his pickup truck, making his way home from Northern California--and since he's spent the last three months in northern Northern California full stop--he was pretty stinky at this precise moment. (Hi Ed!) And you can kinda tell that I'm recoiling slightly from being in such close proximity to his offending armpit.
   
4. I have very few photos of just me and my brother as adults.
   
5. I'm rocking my old-school Fussy shirt.
   
6. Therefore, my boobs look great.
   
7. Ed's throwing out the cheesy, lounge-lizard finger.
   
8. You can see my dad's homemade plastic bird feeder, the one he cut out by hand from an old restaurant-sized mayonnaise container, along the right ridge of the image.
   
9. It's November and we're still in t-shirts at sunset. (Sorry to belabor this point lately, but it's pretty common knowledge that I do much better when the weather's warm. So you might want to brace yourself for posts from Moody Mommy over the next six months or so.)
   
10. It's always nice to have Eddie home again--even if it's just for 36 hours.

Don't Be Hatin'

Don't hate me if you're shivering somewhere cold and blustery right now, but we've had not one but TWO more beach days since my last beach post. You know, the one when I thought it was gonna be the last beach day of the year.

Yeah, well, not so much, I guess.

It's been a ridiculously gorgeous November here in So Cal, and I think I even managed to get a little sunburned yesterday while watching the kids at the park. (Yes, I hear your tiny, mocking wails in response to my horrible plight. Play on, world's smallest sympathy violins...)

And speaking of the park, look who joined me in my Double Duty playground adventures...

Why, it's Uncle Eddie!

He's heading to Hawaii tomorrow, so he stopped in for the traditional spaghetti dinner bonanza at our parents' house and some advanced glass clinking out on the town with his boys. (Yes, you may commence round two of surly condolences, what with his island-bound adventures and social itinerary, and all.)

In conclusion, I have no conclusion.

Just thankfulness for this ongoing beautiful weather and for my happy, healthy family.

Full-Fledged Daddy's Girl Already

John was away camping for most of the weekend with some buddies, so we didn't get to see him for three days and two nights.

After he returned, Shea pretty much refused to leave his side.

It was pretty damn sweet.