Traditions, Both New and Old

Days Gone By (Not Our Real House)

It is still Christmas Eve in the U.S. as I write this and while Uncle P celebrates Christmas as a secular holiday in which we acknowledge, spend time and share gifts with those we love, for many it remains a deeply religious holiday celebrating the birth of their 'savior.' And since this isn't a post about religion, I'll leave that alone and get to the point.

While venturing out late in the afternoon to get a bottle of wine for tomorrow's dinner, I was struck by how the Holidays (like most of life) has changed over the years. Early Christmas memories evoke the many toys and gifts my mother's mother gave us each year, much to our father's consternation. The schadenfreude she derived from his jealously must have been some powerful juju! After she'd had a particularly good year in tips (she was a barmaid), our house was literally filled with presents and I'm surprised Dad didn't have a apoplectic stroke on the spot! At some point "Grandmom Cookie" (so-called because of her always full cookie jar) started spending Christmas Eve with us and we would open her presents then and Santa's and Mom and Dad's presents on Christmas morning. After she passed, we started opening all of our gifts on Christmas Eve. By then I was in college and working part time and Christmas Eve soon evolved into an open-house event where friends and co-workers came and went all night long, I still wonder how we fit so many people into that tiny house. I moved in and out of the house over the years following, but always managed to spend Christmas Eve there. New traditions for the evening continued to evolve after my parents divorced and other folks came into and/or left our lives. For a solid 10 years, Christmas Eve meant broasted* chicken from Chicken Holiday; Southern Comfort Manhattans; two embarrassing piles of presents; shrimp cocktail  and my rock, K. 

That changed again when Mom passed away last October and I spent Christmas Eve with my sister and BIL in Florida. The night before, K and M came over for chicken and such. And while we had a good time, the food wasn't up to their usual standards (I blame a different staff). So this year, even though I'm staying in PA, I decided to cook. On Sunday I made a lasagna and a Caramel Pumpkin Cream Cheese cake. Monday night I steamed and peeled a pound of shrimp and Tuesday night reheated the lasagna; glazed the cake and made cocktail sauce while frying up some battered green beans. Thank goodness M got here early, as I quickly dispatched him on a candle lighting mission. K arrived soon after and then lots of food and drink were consumed, presents were opened and much laughter was shared. 

While it was the first of several similar holiday experiences to come over the next few weeks, last night's Christmas Eve Eve has become what I hope will continue to be a new holiday tradition. For a while, at least. Until things change again, which is inevitable. Cultural traditions may seem steadfast and unchanging, but they are simply slower and less fluid than personal traditions.

I continue to be in awe of the family who have chosen me to a part of theirs, as much as I have chosen them.  K, Q, Dale, M, D and so many others never let me forget that I am not alone and never will be. And there's my astonishing sister. Strong, smart and always supportive, I can only hope you have a sibling who is half as amazing as she is (and yes, it's Christmas! I'm allowed to get gushy!). If you have even half the love in your life as I am blessed to, you know what I mean.

I have received (and will continue to do so) some very cool gifts (Mia's incredible "Zombie Batman" figurine got some stiff competition from Mary & Phil's Nightmare Before Christmas fleece and my sister's standing plush Mickey Skellington - all three of which are rendered in B&W).

None of that stuff, as cool as it may be, really matters.  Like all of us, these things will be dust in a thousand years. What matters is the love we share here and now. I guess what I'm saying is I am grateful for everyone who cares about me and bothers to read my nonsense. Be kind to one another. Know the difference between what does and doesn't matter. Give money or time to a charity that speaks to you, when and if you can. Smile at strangers. Say "Please" and "Thank You." Hold the door for the person behind you. Open the door for the person coming out ahead of you. Acknowledge those who do the same. Share the belief that most people are as good, but no better than, you. Never assume anyone is evil. Help people. Tell those you love that you love them as often as you can. Enjoy the things you have, but take nothing for granted. Enjoy your life. It's the only one you have!

Merry Christmas, my friends and readers! 

More, anon.

Uncle P.

*Pressure fried with no coating

Zombie Batman from Mia

Mickey Skellington from Barbara 

Az én családom

A húgom

While my mother's heritage was German, Scottish and Welsh, as kids my sister and spent much more time with Dad's decidedly Hungarian side of the family and primarily identify our cultural heritage as Hungarian. And therein lies the title of tonight's post which translates into English as "My family." 

My concept of family and the dynamics within my a family have changed a lot in the past seven months. A húgom (my sister) and the BIL have been here all this weekend, primarily to help me with work on my house. They spent all day Thursday working on installing my new washer; installing new locks on the downstairs doors; repairing my toilet and cleaning out tons of our mother's hoarded junk (Barb found 5 separate gallon jugs of windshield washer fluid in my shed and on my porch, which we assume Mom must have smuggled home from the car dealer where she worked). I came home from work Thursday night to be overwhelmed by what they had accomplished.

Today, the three of us went visit our decidedly Hungarian Auntie, who took us to lunch. Auntie, who will be 78 this September, is wracked by severe arthritis in her hips, knees and ankles, reducing her to basically a shut-in, so it was good to see her getting out of her condo, though I don't imagine she'll be with us much longer, either. Yes, that makes me sad. But it also again reminds me that we need to make the most of the time we have with the people we love.

I think a lot of my friends and family thought I was going to really fall apart when Mom passed away. I knew I wouldn't. Yes, I'm still in mourning, but I'm happy to prove to them that I am much stronger than they thought. I also am happy to acknowledge that most of the credit for my current strength goes to their love and support as part of my chosen family over many years. 

Of course, having a sibling who is also a best friend (and who understands you like no one ever can - we had a moment in Home Depot today that no one else would ever get) who is married to an awesome human being I am proud to call Brother, helps. And while I am not fond of the religious connotations such a phrase might invoke, I can only hope that all of you are as 'blessed' to have such an amazing natural and chosen family as Uncle P does, however dysfunctional it may be.

Nope, not that dysfunctional! Whew!

More, anon.
Prospero

Somebody Stop This Beyotch!

I have not seen the latest Disney musical Frozen. I have heard the songs and the parodies of the songs and I think I have a basic understanding of it's plot. And while I love Idina Menzel and the fact that Disney is still able to produce quality films in the digital age... enough, already!

If like Uncle P,  you live along the PA/NJ/NY portion of the infamous I-95 Corridor, then you know exactly what I am talking about. For the past hour, snow has been falling as part of the fourth major snow storm here in as many weeks. Some models project as much as 20 or more inches for the region. Snow here has passed beyond 'magical' and 'beautiful' and long moved on to "I F*CKING HATE WINTER!!"  Of course, it was weather like this which prompted my Sister and the BIL to move to Florida (a state mostly populated by retirees, lunatics, meth-heads and cannibal face-eaters). 

The days are slowly but surely getting longer and I go off of middle shift at the end of this month, which means I'll be going home during daylight once again. Both of these things give me hope, though I still remember the blizzard of March, 1996 and the multiple ice storms of 1998. I was then, as now, convinced winter would never end. I did then and still do, know better. This too, shall pass. Spring will arrive and summer in the Delaware Valley will be excruciatingly humid and we'll all be bitching about that, come mid-July. Still... Taos looks better and better with each passing storm...

If you are trapped in your house today, take some time to enjoy these hilariously (if only slightly) related videos:

This was just last week:

And just to make you feel a little better about this seemingly endless winter, the boys from MST3K have it covered:

Feeling a little warmer already...

More, anon.
Prospero

UPDATE: Uncle P has just learned that the Day Job is closed today! Woo-hoo! Sleeping in!

NOT My Favorite Year

Florida is Weird...
.

Officially, Uncle P has one more work day before I'm on my 'Holiday Break.' To be honest, Monday should be fairly slow at the Day Job, though there are always those panicky clients who MUST get documents processed before the break (despite the fact that their documents aren't going anywhere until after we return). 

In my mind, I'm already in warmer climes, even though I don't leave for Florida until Tuesday morning. And yes, I have a bird/house sitter lined up, so I'm not worried about announcing I'll be away. My dear K will stopping in every day to give Skye fresh water; bring in my mail; watch TV and leave lights on.

This year, K. Michael and I are starting a new tradition: Christmas Eve Eve. Let me explain: For the past ten years or so, K would come over to my house on Christmas Eve to have dinner and take part in the orgy of presents Mom and I would share (long story - see previous posts). Since I'll be in Largo for Christmas Eve, I decided to push our celebration up a day and include a sweet and dear friend who has lent me loads of support in the past few months. We'll have our traditional shrimp cocktail and 'broasted' chicken dinner from Chicken Holiday, complete with their amazing fried creamed-corn nuggets; a small gift exchange and (hopefully) a viewing of A Christmas Story. K will be spending the night and taking me to the airport in the morning (though I have no idea who'll be picking me up when I get home, yet).

I hope to get together with my college friend Marousa (among other activities) while in the Tampa/Clearwater/St.Pete area. Of course, Sis has several activities already planned but I really hope this one happens. I'm very much looking forward to a meal at the African restaurant at Disney's Animal Kingdom's hotel (Sis and the BIL are Vacation Club Members) and honestly can't wait to visit the new Salvador Dali museum where I hope to spend some time gazing at my all-time favorite painting (I have no idea why it's so - it just... 'speaks' to me). I also hope to finish what little holiday shopping I have to do for folks with whom I won't exchange gifts until after the New Year. And among all that excitement, I hope to read at least one play and one novel. Great Expectations, indeed.

This will be the first Christmas spent with my sister in over 18 years. It's also the first Christmas Sis and I will spend without Mom. Ugh. So many feels. I'll be home in time to spend New Year's Eve with my BFFs, K.Q and Dale. So it's all good (or so I keep telling myself). 

It is my fervent hope that you are able to spend time with those you love (and who love you) during the Winter Holiday season, no matter what you believe. Merry Christmas; Happy Solstice; Joyous Kwanzaa and Happy New Year!

With the exception of at least one pre-scheduled post, this is probably (though not decidedly)  my last real-time post for 2013. I will not rue this year's passing. Goodbye and Good Riddance to 2013!

Hoping all of you (and I) have a better year coming!

More, anon.
Prospero

Taking a Break

West and Wewaxation

Uncle P has had a rough year (and an even rougher Fall). Last weekend I broke my toe; caught some sort of bug and then had a very hectic and rather exhausting week at the day-job. I'm tired, folks. So I've decided to take a small break from blogging (since I can't seem to get one anywhere else) for the rest of this year. I'm sure my small band of loyal of loyal readers will understand. That's not to say I won't pop in and rant if I find something that inspires me to do so. I hope I do. I may tweet (@Caliban761) and will certainly be on Facebook. And I will be scheduling a few auto-posts here and there. But I need to give up something for a bit, and right now, it's Caliban's Revenge. 

I want to get through the holidays as painlessly as possible and while I'll be spending most of Christmas week with my amazing sister and the BIL in Florida, I'm still in recovery mode and need some time to get re-energized and re-inspired.

I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season, no matter holidays you do or don't celebrate. Take time for yourselves (and buy something to give yourself for Christmas - a tradition Mom started in our house while I was still in high school). Be good to one another and tell the people you love that you love them, every chance you get. 

See you in 2014.

More, eventually.
Prospero

D'Oh! or: Uncle P's "First World Problems" Weekend

"I Could Ride That Lip All the Way to Trenton!" ~ Uncle P's Mother

Once again, some links in this post may be NSFW.

So, last night... Uncle P spent 90+ minutes writing, researching and linking hilarious and informative links in a post which I failed to revert to draft, forcing me to re-log into Blogger and lose everything I had painstakingly worked on to give you, what few faithful readers I have, a few moments of weird entertainment. I wasn't happy, but it certainly wasn't the end of the world, nor the first time my own neglectfulness had led to such an issue.

Today, my sweet, thoughtful mother (who is nothing like the Gerald Scarfe illustration linked in the Pouty Picture's caption) presented me with an "Anti-Fathers' Day" present. And before all you Grammar Nazis question it, the apostrophe is used the way it should be used in this case, meaning all fathers, rather than just yours, which would be written as 'Father's.' (Can you tell I'm in a mood? Thought you might.) Anyway... In the wake of my previously mentioned BIL's greatly appreciated semi-decimation of my long-neglected backyard's overgrowth, the task of disposing over-sized nuisance flora left behind by his Herculean effort seemed nothing short of over-whelming to yours truly. Mom, in her infinite thoughtfulness, saw this set of ratcheting pruning shears on my sister's competition and ordered them (in blue), thinking they might save me time and effort

And boy, was she right. I tried them out almost right away and found that they cut through some rather tough branches with little effort and thinner ones with almost none at all. Like 'buttah.' The hand shears took on weeds, smaller shrubs, saplings and rose branches just as easily, once I figured out how to open the damned things (no instructions led to some consternation when it came to figuring out the safety lock). I honestly haven't been so pleased by a practical gift in a very long time. If you're looking for a gift for Dad; Mom; Dads; Moms or even if you're just a homeowner with an overgrown yard, I highly recommend them. They were purchased from the major home-shopping channel that is not located in the F state. And if that doesn't help, it starts with the same letter as one of my dearest friend's name.

Sadly, my joy over the amazing pruners was soon negated, once again by own stupidity. Plans had been made for Q, Dale, K and I to see Man of Steel at our central (i.e. default) AMC multiplex. In an effort to control my credit card spending, Uncle P chose not to buy tickets online, instead picking up K in time (or so I thought) to buy tickets once at the theater. For the first time in all my of memory, Uncle P was shut out of a sold-out movie. Of course, Q and Dale (like sane people) had pre-purchased their tickets on-line. After much texting and an actual phone call; malfunctioning automated ticket machines and an aborted attempt to buy tickets to another movie at the same time (thanks to the aforementioned MTMs) K and I went for a drink and then went home. I will have other chances to see Man of Steel this week, though there's nothing like seeing a movie with one's best friends. 

While I'm still hoping that Dear D, Mike and I will see This Is the End this week as well, I came home to find a friend had sent me a link the very Bromantic video embedded below, which actually made me feel a little better. What can I say, but 'Kiss Me, Guido?'

Yes, I know there are people who can barely feed their families, let alone afford to go to a movie. Yes, there are far worse things in the world than lost blog posts and sold-out movies. I'd like to think of myself as someone who not only has compassion and empathy for others (i.e. 'Not a Jerk'). I volunteer and do charity work. I smile at everyone (even those who refuse to smile back), though I don't suffer fools, easily. 

None of that means that I don't get to pout now and then, does it? I mean, I know plenty of folks who pout regularly (in fact, almost incessantly) on various forms of social media. Am I being a 'drama queen' tonight? Maybe. Churlish? Possibly. A 'White Whiner?" Perhaps. But who isn't, at least once a while? Damn! I really wanted to see some Cavill, tonight!

More, anon.
Prospero

After the Superhero Leaves

If you've seen Pixar's hilarious Superhero/James Bond mashup movie, The Incredibles, then you know there is always a price to pay for the destruction caused by superheroes in their pursuit of supervillians. Sure, the Super has saved hundreds of thousands of lives from the hands of a madman, but at what cost? I know you've seen the trailers for Man of Steel. I must assume you saw The Avengers and at least the trailer for Ironman 3. Just at look at all the physical property destruction wreaked upon New York and Metropolis and wherever Tony Stark and Mr. & Mrs. Incredible live. Someone has to clean that mess up.

My amazing sister and her husband flew up from Florida to specifically come help me do some things around the house for which I don't have the skills or just couldn't do by myself. Thursday morning they showed up and the BIL went right to work, repairing the gate destroyed by Sandy (I knew there was a reason I didn't throw those pieces away). After he finished that, we went to a famous DIY box-store and spent an hour picking up supplies for the other jobs we had planned on tackling. I drove home at a steady 22 MPH with three 8x6 stockade fence panels tied to my luggage rack and a new ceiling fan for my kitchen; backsplash for my bathroom and assorted hardware for several other projects. Between 2 PM and 6 PM that afternoon, the BIL had installed the backsplash and the ceiling fan; the two of us put up the stockade fence and he repaired another chain-link fence on the short side of the back lawn. We had hoped to trim some of the horrifically overgrown vegetation along the two longer sides of the neighbors' fences, but it was raining off-and-on all day, so that got shelved. Meanwhile, my sister started sorting through some of Mom's extensive jewelery collection, looking for items of actual value. Mom has a lot of 'fashion' jewelry (what used to be called 'costume' jewelry), but she also had a whole lot of fine gold and silver stuff with plenty of real gemstones. Sis, along with being an extraordinary maker of cakes, used to work as a fine jewelry retailer and is a certified Diamondtologist. After a few hours of sorting and cleaning (and Mom's say-so), she had quite a pile of stuff Mom hasn't even seen in years, let alone worn. Exhausted, we met up later at a local diner (along with the BIL's equally gold-hearted sister and her very bright and funny son) for a huge celebratory meal. 

Yesterday, while Sis went off to sell the jewelry (which netted Mom far more much-needed cash than either of us anticipated), the BIL came back and started on the trimming we'd been unable to do on Thursday. And he had that look in his eye. The one that said, "I'm bored and I'm going to finish if it kills me." Using only an electric hedge trimmer and my small handsaw, he cleared 2/3 of the long-neglected weeds; vines; small trees and assorted Evil Dead-level vegetation in my backyard before accidentally cutting my 100' extension cord (something of which I've been guilty in the past). He vowed to repair or replace it (and he did). And while I truly appreciate all the hard work he put into it, it's going to take me several weeks to clear all the stuff he cut down. I alreafdy filled two large brown-paper lawn bags and barely touched a quarter of it Trust me, I am NOT complaining! I love that he did as much as he could while here. Hell, I wish we could have done more. And while I still have a ton of work to do in the yard, it hardly seems as overwhelming as it once did. Cleaning up after the superhero is certainly better than fighting the villain alone, no matter how sore one's legs, back and shoulders are... (I should buy stock in the company that makes 'Aleve'). It sucks getting old, kids.

I don't know. Maybe Man of Steel has me all worked up. I just know that I love my siblings and everything they do for me! And I can't wait until I can go down to the F state again for a proper visit!

More, anon.
Prospero

Guerilla Filmmaking and Other Movie Nonsense

Escape from Tomorrow

From the Happy Mutants over at BoingBoing comes this review of a film which premiered at Sundance this weekend. Escape from Tomorrow tells the story of a man who, on the last day of his family vacation in Orlando, learns he has lost his job. As the film  progresses, the man slowly loses his grip on reality, eventually creating a surreal and nightmarish descent into madness. Of course, the extraordinary thing is that the film was apparently shot without the knowledge or cooperation of the Disney corporation, which has been known to sue daycare centers for copyright infringements and asking Santa to leave their parks. Film critic Drew McWeeny says "It is impossible this film exists... And yet, not only does it exist; but it's fascinating." 

Long-time readers know that Uncle P's sister is a self-described "Disney Dork." In fact, last weekend she and the BIL went on their second Disney cruise. And while I personally prefer Universal Studios, I must admit that I have been to Disneyworld at least five times. Which makes Escape from Tomorrow all that much more fascinating to me. 

Personal friends know that I adore off-the-wall, experimental and outright bizarre film experiences. Movies like Richard Elfman's Forbidden Zone; David Lynch's Eraserhead; Quentin Dupieux's Rubber; Terry Gilliam's Brazil; David Cronenberg's Naked Lunch and Guy Maddin's The Saddest Music in the the World are very much why I love film so much. They make me feel like I'm not alone in my personally skewed vision of life.

Here's a clip from Escape from Tomorrow, featuring daddy-bear star Roy Abramsohn dealing with his obsession with two French teenagers at a Disney resort pool:

I don't know how director Randy Moore pulled off this film, though I am amazed and excited that he did. McWeeny supposes the movie will never find a distributor and will eventually fall into obscurity, thanks to Disney's phalanx of lawyers. Still, I think that I must see Escape from Tomorrow, if only to satisfy my curiosity and add it to my list of outsider films I've loved or hated.

Trust me, I don't get it anymore than you.

More, anon.

Prospero

When an Old Favorite Disappoints

Veal Parmigiana

A local institution here in Lower Bucks, Georgine's has been a family favorite for many years. They even catered my sister's wedding. The food was consistently good and the portions outrageously huge. I can't count the number of times my family and friends have shared good food and good times there. They are particularly famous for their French onion soup and their milk-fed veal parmigiana, which always fills (and often over-flows) the plate. 

It has been several years since we've eaten there, so when my sister and the BIL came up from FL today and wanted to go out for dinner, Sis suggested Georgine's, which our mother and I both agreed was an excellent choice. I had a very tiny lunch today, in anticipation of the soup and veal. By the time we were seated, I was practically salivating. 

We ordered. Mom and I ordered cups of the French onion, while BIL ordered a bowl of it, along with a cup of the seafood bisque. Mom got an appetizer for her entree: a crab and spinach stuffed portobello cap. BIL ordered the seafood platter while Sis got a chicken dish and I ordered the veal. When the soup arrived, we dug in only to be surprised and disappointed to find it extremely salty and lacking in actual onions. This wasn't the delectable treat we remembered. Then came our entrees. Sis reported that her chicken (with tomatoes, mushrooms and a cream sauce) was good, though BIL said his clams casino tasted weird. Mom enjoyed the crab, but thought the mushroom was "vinegary" and my veal parm, while huge, was so salty, I could barely taste the meat. 

We left full but unsatisfied and, after a short discussion, decided that our memories of the food we'd had there before weren't faulty. Now, restaurants change chefs. It happens. But Georgine's prides itself on using the same recipes they've been using since they opened (those belonging to the long-deceased Georgine, herself).  time-honored recipe shouldn't be tinkered with or changed (unless it results in an improvement). I have no idea what actually happened tonight but I do know the food we were served was not the food we had come to love. 

So, my question is: Should we give Georgine's another chance or just give up and find a new favorite? Have you had a similar experience at one of your favorite restaurants? What did you do? Inquiring minds want to know. Leave me your answers in the comments.

More, anon.
Prospero