2015: The Baddest Bad Year That Was Ever Bad

To say that 2015 was a year straight from the pit of Hades would be a severe understatement.

Hi. Welcome back to Cowboy Boots in the Kitchen. A year and a half later. 

It's kinda difficult to give a detailed list of everything that happened and everything that went wrong - and while both my wife and I experienced a pretty awful year, we didn't necessarily have the same experiences or problems. The best thing I can say in regards to my experience is: Depression sucks. Have I ever made that clear before? That I have Depression? Now, I know that it's hard to take people seriously when they say that today; it's become the new "ADD"—remember that? Remember how in the 90s, everyone had ADD and boasted that they had it?—and while I certainly don't have Depression as bad as many that I know (I still have never been tempted to take my own life), I can just tell you that I have it bad enough that a lot of things in my life have been messed up because of it.

Last year, for instance.

For me, my terrible experience with 2015 was largely related to my medical condition, in a round-about sort of way. Because it wasn't the Depression itself that was messing me up... but unfortunately the medications. The very things I was hoping would help me...? Unfortunately they had quite the opposite effect. Here is a total list of all the prescriptions I've been on: Zoloft, Lexapro, Welbutrin, Prozac, Celexa, Remeron, and finally Tegretol. That's seven different meds... in one year.

There were two major problems I was dealing with—and am still recovering from—as a result of not only being on medication, but specifically being on so many different ones in such a short period of time: energy/motivation loss... and most upsetting: weight gain.

I don't remember whether I ever talked about it on this blog before or not, but I used to way 315 pounds - that was for most of my teenage years. I had tried losing weight so many times, but nothing ever seemed to work. Well, "all of a sudden" in 2010 I started finally losing weight. By 2012 I was down to 190. It was probably the most amazing accomplishment in my life - it was something I wanted for so long.

Well, unfortunately... 2015 and my medications saw fit to see that I was not ("fit," that is). By the end of the year I had gained back 100 pounds, virtually hitting the "reset" button on everything I'd worked so hard to change. So yeah... that's pretty crappy.

The other thing, energy/motivation-loss? Well, it would hit especially hard in the one area of life where you hope and pray that it won't.... the job. I stopped caring about work. I got tired of working. Of being "part of the system." The result? I brought in nearly 40% less income than I had in 2014. I should have been fired, but by God's grace I was not, and, while it did severely strain our relationship, my boss was extremely merciful. But that huge hit to our finances had consequences, of course... largest of all: my wife having a mental breakdown and ending up in a mental health hospital for seven days.

Take all this and add the extra "spice" of expensive vehicle problems, having a puppy who is hyperactive to the point that it drives up our stress levels, credit cards nearly getting maxed out on medical bills, and my childhood cat on the verge of death (possibly because of a tumor)...

Lord. Have. Mercy.

Whew.... let me just.... catch my breath.... Just give me a moment....

On the other hand, I have to remember the good that happened last year. Because a lot of good stuff really did happen. One big thing in particular...

Not long after I wrote the last post in this blog (August 2014), my wife and I actually made a big move. We moved from our apartment... to live with my parents. Why? Well, my parents live in the same house that I grew up in, and I love that house. The idea was that we were going to move in with my parents with the end goal of taking over the house - paying monthly bills like rent that went toward purchasing the house from them. Things started out well, but funnily enough what ended up happening was that Julia and I began to really miss Woodstown (the original town we lived in). Well... after staying with my parents for a year, we moved back to Woodstown, though a different apartment this time. We've been here for about six months now, and we are just insanely happy. Seriously, we just really feel like Woodstown is where we're supposed to be. It's our town. So that was a huge good thing that happened.

         Also, I found an amazing church within 30 minutes of our apartment that I've been attending when I can and where the parishioners made me feel like part of a family from the first day.

         Annnnd I'll also add that another really good thing that happened—WARNING: I'm about to show my "geek"—wasssss the new Star Wars film, Episode VII: The Force Awakens. Y'know, when the original Star Wars premiered in 1977, it's goal—or I should say its creator George Lucas' goal—was to rapture people, if but temporarily, from all the troubles that were going on at the time. Well, The Force Awakens ended up acting in a very similar way, at least for my wife and I. We went to see it four times—it would have been five, I bought the tickets, but unfortunately we got sick and couldn't go—and it got better every single time. We would come home beaming, talking rapidly and excitedly like two little kids. It seems kinda cheesy to say, but the movie really was a huge help to us in pulling us out of the doldrums.

Anyway, just had to put that last thing in there, I couldn't resist.

So.... here we are today. In 2016. My wife and I have no idea what this year holds. All we can say is that we are going to try our darndest to make it a better year than last year. One of the ways in which I'm doing that? Getting back to this blog. Because, even though I never really got far with it before, it still was/is very meaningful to me to have. Just a place where I can share stuff, events, recipes, everyday experiences, and whatever else.

Well, I'd love to write more, but it's past my bedtime.

The Brony Phenomenon - Concerned, But Not in the Way you might Think...

Last night my wife and I watched the documentary on Netflix called "Bronies: The  Extremely Unexpected Adult Fans of My Little Pony." For those that may not be familiar with the phenomenon: a 'brony' is the title of a male (they average between high school and college ages) who is a fan of "My Little Pony"—specifically the animated television series that has started up within the last couple years.

I remember first hearing about bronies a few years ago, and at the time I cocked my eyebrow and thought it sounded very... eh… questionable? But soon after my initial reaction my perception of it changed when I began to consider a couple things. Firstly, I heard that one of the primary reasons young men were attracted to the show was because of how happy it was. And in the Post-9/11 age we live in where a lot of the movies that have been coming out are dark and depressing and the overall tone in America tends to feel… well… dark and depressing… I thought to myself "I understand." And, heck, started to find encouragement that the next generation was looking for some rays of sunlight in a rather dismal time period. It may not be what we expected, but in a sense the 'brony phenomenon' is almost like this generation's "Star Wars." That thing, that big thing that allows audiences to escape into perhaps a more exhilarating world, if but for a small vacation away from troubles.

So that was one reason. The second reason for me accepting it was just more of a logical reasoning… I remember thinking "We don't think it's weird when there are female fanbases for specifically MALE-audience-targeted things… So why should it be weird in reverse?"

"But the man! The man must be MANLY! How can He be a true man of God if he's watching girlie shows??" But God never gave a prerequisite in the Bible that men could only be 'men of God' by chopping wood all day, killing lions with their bare hands, keeping their emotions hidden (i.e. not crying in front of people). I still do not understand why we, even in Christendom (specifically American Christendom), have that image of the so-called "True Man [of God]." It's like, there is a strange understanding that being more sensitive and showing a bit more emotion completely nullifies the man's ability to be a "Leader." Yet… if you'll recall… Jesus Christ wasn't exactly the picture of a "Manly Man." He was QUITE sensitive/emotional. Even the Woman at the Well took note that He was not 'normal' for a man the more she talked with Him. And yet, despite not being what we might think is a traditional "Manly Man," He was/is a LEADER. His emotions and sensitivity did not nullify His leadership in the slightest. In fact, I daresay it actually BOOSTED it, if anything. Because He was more relatable. He was REAL with people.

I mean, by much of the culture's reckoning, heck, even the mainstream CHRISTIAN culture's reckoning, I am not a true Man. That was one of the reasons I started this blog in the first place. I love flowers, romantic comedies, romance films in general, musicals, my favorite color is purple, I am not ashamed to cry in the open, I appreciate floral designs on flatware... I mean, gosh, the list goes on.

Anyway, I digress… The point is, I think we severely misunderstand what it really means to be a "real man."

HOWEVER…. All of this is not to say that I have no problem with the Brony Movement. Well, actually that's not true. It's not the Brony movement I have any trouble with, per se… But more the "My Little Pony" phenomenon itself, and its dangerous potential.

You see, while I watched all of these young men singing songs from the show, wearing pony shirts and costumes and tattoos, it wasn't that in itself that I had trouble with. What really caused me to worry, rather… was the potential I saw for something like this to be abused. Almost everyone who was interviewed had the same thing in common… They were attracted to the overwhelming positivity of the show. The messages of Love, and Compassion, and Friendship, and Peace, and Harmony.

And while those are good qualities, certainly, what unsettled me was the almost intense nature in which these qualities were embraced… And suddenly I found myself concerned at the almost alarming similarities between what I was hearing some of the interviewees say and what I have seen, heard, and learned about the 70's. And I think you know what I mean.

My fear here is not about men "losing their masculinity." If I have a fear, it's that the people (men and women alike) involved in this community seem to have the potential to be drawn into an almost escapist reality, where "all is love" or "all you NEED is love…" and at the expense of some of the harsher realities in the world that, rather than being swept under the carpet, NEED TO BE ADDRESSED.

Look, I'm all for escaping temporarily into a place of peace and rest. I have had to take MULTIPLE sabbaticals away from Facebook this year for just that reason. But it's one thing to do that temporarily and another to do that permanently. And the latter is what I'm afraid could happen if caution is not used.

Am I making a mountain out of a molehill? Am I making unfair generalizations without putting in some fair research (I mean, let's face it… This documentary is really the source of all I know about bronies at the moment)? Very possibly yes. And, of course, I apologize if that's true. But I believe that if those mistakes on my part are true it still does not negate basically the message I've been building up to here:

And that's a plea to USE CAUTION. USE DISCERNMENT. That's all that I ask. Remember this, like anything else, is just a VACATION, a getaway to get you away from stress, to help you relax and perhaps help you learn a few helpful things to return home with. But that's exactly it: remember where your true home is. And remember that there are people, very real people, there (family, friends, strangers) who need you. And they need you with your eyes open and not stuck in a fantasy world where "all is love, and rainbows, and butterflies."

If you can promise me you'll remember that, then by all means keep doing your thing.

Epic Accomplishment: Cooking for Diverse Tastes

Wow, so last night I felt like I accomplished some kind of "Initiation"... or "Coming of Age"... or "Right of Passage"—are they all the same thing? .... yeah, I guess they are. And let me preface this by saying that is was a positive experience. Crazy, but positive! So basically last night my wife and I teamed up in the kitchen to make, not one, not two, not three, but FOUR meals last night for a full house. Why? Well, because we had a group of people with some diverse tastes, that's why.

First off was the homemade pizza, using a recipe that I've been using for several months now that is perhaps one of the best homemade recipes I have ever tried. It is simple, requires no waiting for the dough to rise, and only takes about 25 minutes in the oven. The recipe: 

- 3 cups of all-purpose flour
- 1 .25 oz packet (or 2½ tsps.) of active yeast
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 1 Tablespoon sugar
- 2 Tablespoon vegetable oil (though I usually use canola)
- 1 cup of warm water (110° - if you don't have a thermometer I usually adjust the faucet water while my hand is under it and wait until it is clearly getting warmer than my hand's temperature)  

Mix the dry ingredients, then the oil and water until dough forms. Roll out, add sauce and cheese (I recommend Sargento 4-Cheese Pizzeria cheese... it's MAGIC) and place in the center of oven at 375° for 20-25 minutes. Voila!  

For the sauce I used my family's recipe that we've been using for a very, very long time, involving tomato sauce, browned ground beef, oregano, parsley, garlic powder, and sugar/maple syrup to taste.

So that went into the oven. Check!

Next up... My famous moist and tender pan-made chicken!

Throw 1 tablespoon of butter and some olive oil into a skillet and let the butter melt. Meanwhile take a thawed chicken breast and dredge it in a mixture of flour, salt, pepper, Italian seasoning, and garlic powder. Toss into the skillet and let the bottom cook for 1-2 minutes on Medium heat. Flip over, and cover skillet and let cook for 15 minutes (don't peek!). After 15 minutes, turn off the burner but leave the chicken where it is, still covered, for another 15 minutes. Afterward, lift lid, cut into chicken and make sure it is cooked through. If all goes well, you should have yourself a perfect slab of moist, tender chicken!

Along with this we boiled up some frozen corn and peas.

Next meal: Simple chicken noodle soup! Basically we just tossed some Chicken bouillon cubes into boiling water with noodles and let boil until the noodles got soft.

Finally: my Aunt Bonnie's brownies for dessert. The bestest homemade brownies in the world. Quite literally, I should think. Annnnnnd I am very sorry to say that I don't have the recipe on hand, but I will get it and post it on here soon, because you really must try it.

So yes... FOUR meals! The kitchen was a glorious mess with a deep aroma of mixed smells of herbs and spices and Italian and chicken and chocolate. Oh yes, and I almost forgot, at the end, along with the brownies, we decided to go for chocolate overkill and make my wife's homemade hot chocolate recipe—yes, you guessed it... "one of the best recipes in the world."

And then, of course, at the end was one of my favorite tasks: taking an impossible mess (which, the kitchen literally looked like one) and cleaning it allllll up!

So yes, it was Epic. And now I feel like I have an idea of what it's like to run a littlest tiniest mini-restaurant.

The Fight to Kill Myself

So, yeah... so it's been quite a long while since I have posted on this blog... It may have something to do with something really insignificant and silly that happened. Something that's called, ohhh, I dunno...

GETTING MARRIED!

This is not actually me and Julia. We're standing
behind those doors glaring out at you from the
shadows.

What?? Yeah, that's right. This past June, on the 20th, I was, at what felt like very long last, married to my bestest friend of all of forever, Julia. And you can read an earlier blog post on how we met. Unless I didn't write such a post. In which case... You don't even know anything. But I'll try and fix that at my earliest inconvenience.

So, yeah. Marriage. We are approaching our fifth monthiversary, (pretty crazy that it's already been almost half of a year, where does the time go?) and in these first few months, my wife and I have come through a lot, and learned a lot.

Here's the thing: Thankfully because we are best friends, we had no preconceived notions that marriage was going to be Rainbows & Butterflies. We were not one of those couples that elderly married folks like to chide as being the head-in-the-clouds, you-will-complete-me-and-we-will-be-happy-forever type... which, sometimes I wonder if those couples even really exist... Anyway, thankfully my wife and I escaped with very few elbows to the ribs accompanied by the smug cliché "Just wait 'til the honeymoon's over, Heh-Heh-HEHHHHH" remarks. Which is good because they might well have made a sudden but inevitable acquaintance with my fist (I mean seriously... Why do you have to do that? Why do you have to say that? When someone says that I always immediately want to respond "Well, I'm so sorry to hear your marriage is apparently so awful." Anyways, I digress). No, we knew marriage would be difficult. Heck, just take a look at the divorce rates in the United States and you'll become very conscious of how hard marriage is.

But admittedly—and as anyone genuinely wise and helpful will tell you—knowing intellectually and experiencing actually can be very, very different. Honestly, the best advice I ever heard going into marriage was summed up in this phrase:

Marriage is a beautiful tool used to perfect us. But we don't become perfected by asking what's in it for us. We become perfected by being self-denying. Sacrifice our wants and needs every single day in order to prioritize our spouse. Is it difficult? Oh, you better believe it is. See, I knew this going in. Both of us did. So at least we were "ahead of the game." And I'm glad for that! And I do think it is so very important to be aware of that going into marriage. But it is so important to also remember that knowledge is often times a poor substitute for experience. It reminds me of how almost every mother I have talked to has at some point told me that she knew the ins and outs of having a baby and raising the him or her. She had all the books, she had all the DVDs, she had all the tips and tricks given to her by friends... but when the time actually came each of them admitted that nothing really could have been enough to truly prepare them for the experience (and that applies to the negatives and the positives). And it works very much the same way with marriage. Sure, read the books, watch the DVDs, talk to the counselors, go to the seminars, talk to married couples. All of that is a good idea. But just remember there is a point at which learning intellectually will no longer be of any help, and experience will be the only way to truly learn.

I experienced this very profoundly recently. For a few days I was struggling with something my wife was doing (something not bad in and of itself). I would try to just ignore it. I prayed about it. And here's the interesting thing: intellectually I kept thinking to myself, Remember, it's not about me, it's about her! Essentially trying to remind myself that true love is self-sacrificing. But even though I kept thinking about that intellectually, emotionally I just "could not" embrace it. So, one evening last week I promptly sat her down and, to put it bluntly (though, I'd like to think I said it with some measure of care), I gave her a list of things that she was doing that were affecting me negatively, and asked her to come to a compromise with me. One of the (many) problems with how I handled this was that, because I let my emotions get in the way, I ended up coming across more like I wanted her to just change herself for me. Go beyond compromise, and just change. Period. And because that's how she processed what I was saying, it hurt her very deeply. We went to bed both upset, and as we lay there I started to realize a very deep guilt, like I had just done something terribly wrong. I hugged her and said "I'm sorry, I have no idea what I'm doing." She echoed the same back to me, and we fell asleep.

This is the very pond. And that's Julia up there. But this picture
is not from the day I'm describing. This is from a couple months ago,
when we still loved each other.

Psyche.

The next day we walked down the street to a giant pond near us and sat on a bench. We just wanted to get out, and we had books in hand ready to just relax. But as we got closer to the park, I could tell something was wrong. We sat down and watched a ginormous flock of Canadian geese swimming around in the pond, and we talked. She was still feeling hurt by what I said. For a few minutes, my emotional defenses started to go back up... until the feeling of guilt was just overwhelming. Something was wrong. And finally it hit me.

Remembering that my responsibility in this marriage is not to change my wife... but to change myself. It's not my responsibility to make her change to meet my needs, but for me to change to meet her needs.

Now, does this mean we should never speak up about anything and just take all the dirt that's thrown at us? If a husband or wife is being oppressive, careless, ignorant of your feelings, etc., are you supposed to just keep your mouth shut and take it? No, I personally don't believe so. I believe marriage is a partnership. I believe marriage should involve openness and honesty. Summed up: marriage should involve COMMUNICATION. But of course the key to that is also how you communicate. And here is where I failed.

Rather than me getting a hold of my emotions and being able to just calmly lay how I was feeling before my wife and asking if we could come to some sort of compromise, I let my emotions take control and I blew the whole thing out of proportion and ended up hurting her.

A dear friend once told me, "You will experience fewer things more scarring than when you say something that makes your wife cry."

He was right.

And so, as I realized what I was doing, I just suddenly stopped talking, and leaned my head back, and told my wife that I had forgotten one of the key things about marriage. Self-denial. Self-sacrifice. Changing myself rather than trying to change her. And being so careful with her feelings. We just sat there and hugged for a while and then began to walk back home. On our way there, I didn't say much. My eyes just wandered about. I felt upset over my failure.... But also a small, little goblinoid voice in my head said "But it's not FAIR! I want it to be about ME!!!"

We got home and I decided to go out and do some grocery shopping and give my wife some time to herself while I took some time for myself. While I was out, I thought long and hard about everything, felt a little better, but still bothered. When I got home I found my wife sitting on the couch, writing in her journal—I knew it was about what had happened—and she looked up at me. I could tell she was still having trouble. We talked some more about the situation, and my emotions started taking a hold of me again, but rather than saying anything I knew I needed to withdraw into the kitchen and clean for a while and work on dinner. Every once and a while, as my eyes drifted across the doorway into the kitchen, I could see my wife down the hall peaking at me around the corner, and then going back to what she was doing. After I got dinner in the oven, I sat down in the dining room and started to write down some recipes. Eventually she came down the hall and approached me cautiously, I could see deep concern in her eyes. "Hey," I said. After a few moments of silence, she asked, "Are you mad at me?" to which I immediately said "No! Of course not." (because I wasn't mad at her; I was upset over the circumstances, but I wasn't mad at her). As soon as I said that she broke down in tears, and at that moment...

Nothing else mattered to me.

Selfishness was gone. Goblinoid voice was blown to smithereens. I felt like such an idiot-jerk, but in the best possible way. And I jumped up and hugged her. It was so stupid. The whole thing was stupid. I was stupid. The end.

Now here's the thing: because of how scarring it truly is to cause your spouse to cry because of something you did or said... multiple times in one argument... it would really be preferable for it to never have to go that far for me or you to realize how selfish we are being. But granted... in the beginning it may be the best way. I mean, let's face it, when you first start out, you are going to be a heckuva lot more stubborn, your heart is going to be a heckuva lot harder. And so in that there is almost a rather frightening warning:

It is really frightening. But true. What will it take? Your spouse crying? Your spouse not talking to you for a while? Your spouse needing time away from you? Divorce?

Too much is at risk when we make marriage about us.

It's not worth it. No matter what that goblinoid voice in your head tells you. It's only worth it if you're some sadistic monster who gets pleasure out of hurting people you love and who love you. But again, I can say all I want on this subject to you, but in the end it's more than likely going to come down to what happens, how you learn, when you actually experience it.

My wife and I are only a few months into our first year of marriage, and we are experiencing what it is like to live in such close proximity with someone who is different from ourselves. We are already learning so much, and I know we've got a long way—Lord-willing—to go yet. But we knew all this entering into marriage, and yet we still went through with it. We've made an agreement, a commitment, to spend each and every day learning to love each other unconditionally, learning to deny ourselves, and allowing God to use this process to bring us closer to each other, but also closer to Him and who He is. We'll go through the heartaches, and the tears, and the anger, and the huffing and puffing, and we are going to work hard.

Because both of us know marriage is worth it. Marriage is worth killing our self-will for. Marriage is worth fighting for.

So... get out there, get'cherself a spouse, and kill yourself!

...well.... not literally, of course...

The Double-Edged Sword of Being Servant-hearted

While my fiancée and I obviously are not married we definitely feel like we are in a lot of ways based on the kind of experiences we have already run into—and we don't deny that God is already weaving us together; I mean, come on, honestly, do you really think God waits until you say "I do" and then He's like "Oh! Okay, now I can finally work you two together!" Maybe it works that way for some, but certainly not us. Anyway, I digress... It's said that one of the reasons why marriage can be so difficult is that it causes you to look into a mirror and come face-to-face with the reality of your own shortcomings. And that has certainly been happening a lot throughout my relationship with Julia.

One of the personal problems I have come to discover about myself stems from my primary personality trait. My primary personality trait is to be a servant. Now, someone may read that and think that is an excellent quality to have, but the problem is that it has some very negative side effects... if I let it. And of course, being a human being... I let it, pretty often.

One negative side effect in being "servant-hearted" is that, while I take pleasure in serving others... I don't really let anyone serve me. Not because I pridefully don't accept charity, but instead it's a fear of inconveniencing people. It's a strange assumption on my part that someone would be serving me out of obligation, and not because they genuinely want to do so. Which, of course, is very silly of me. It almost seems like an assumption on my part that I am the only person on Earth who takes pleasure in serving and that surely no one else does. 

Julia actually "lectured" me on this a few days ago—which, I am glad she did—and made a very good argument that is helping me to try harder at allowing others to do things for me. She told me that she wants to learn to be more servant-hearted, but if I don't give her the opportunity to do so, how will she learn? So of course I couldn't argue with that and had to bite my lip and allow her to do something for me :)

There is another negative side effect, and this is the one that has the potential to be more dangerous. Other fears I have when it comes to relationships with other people are as follows:

1. I don't want to disappoint people

2. I don't want to upset or hurt the feelings of anyone

3. I don't want people to look down on me or reject me

How can these fears manifest themselves in my servant-heartedness? Well the way in which I have seen them play out the most in my relationship with my fiancée... is that I don't let myself be entirely open with her. If I have messed up, or if something related to her or something she did affected me negatively, my fear of hurting her or being rejected by her causes me to keep silent.

This is bad. Very bad. And for several reasons. First off, she and I made a commitment pretty early on in our relationship that we wanted to always be open and honest with each other, no matter how much pain it may cause. So when I let my fears control me it causes me to break the promise she and I made to each other. But the greater danger this character flaw has is that it can very easily turn into "Beachball Syndrome."

In the ocean, or in a pool, if you take a beachball and push it down underwater it's not going to stay there. In fact it is going to explode up and out, like a volcanic eruption. Suppressing my openness and honesty with Julia can (and has at least once or twice) eventually lead to emotional "eruptions", which can cause more pain than the pain that would have been caused had there been openness and honesty in the beginning. Now... just in case you read that and get worried: they weren't angry eruptions. It was more me getting super-explosively upset.

That's one of the reasons why Julia and I made the commitment, because we knew that, while being open and honest has the potential to be painful, the pain is always short-lived and you work through it together, pretty easily. However, pain that is the result of an eruption because of suppressed emotion... that can be a little harder to work through. Thank God in the couple times it's happened, Julia and I have worked through it.

One of the things I am trying to do is put myself in Julia's shoes. If I knew she wasn't being entirely open or honest with me about something, even if it was something that would be painful for me to hear, yeah, I would feel a little hurt. So I have to remember that. A lot of this, between the serving others thing and being open and honest thing require me to slip out of my shoes and into the other person's and think about how I would feel were the roles reversed.

I know this is going to be a tough lesson to learn, but I am determined to learn it! If I truly care about Julia, I will fight to learn.

TraDITIONNNNN!!!...TRADITION! - Part 1

(If you're cool you'll know what I'm referencing in that title... Okay-okay-okay, you'll be cool even if you don't)

Tradition is a very big deal in my family. And it pretty much always has been. None of us are totally sure why it became such a big deal, but it did, and still very much is. In fact, funnily enough, it has become so integrated, so normal in our lives that when we talk to other families that don't have similar traditions (usually holiday-related) it shocks us.

My family is very tightly knit. We may all go our separate ways but we all always end up back at home for one reason or another. Or no reason at all. I am the youngest of six kids in a family total of eight. Of course now, with my oldest brother and oldest sister having kids that number is now significantly larger. But in the immediate family we are eight. Mom, Dad, my brother Tim, sisters Sue, Bon, Ruth, Sarah. And then there's little Joey (of course, as my siblings will be quick to point out, at 5' 11" and 185 lbs. I am hardly little anymore). As I have mentioned before, I am 25 years old. And almost all of those twenty five years were spent in one house; the house I and my parents still live in. This house is home. It always has been. It's where all of us return. Where we gather together. Where we share laughter, discuss everything under the Sun, share burdens, and of course we talk about each other behind each others' backs (I had to add that lest you think we are some perfect family :-D) But no matter what we go through, no matter what problems have arose between us, we all always come back home.

Because we have been so tightly knit, we have always done so much together. Sure we have had our divisions, but we have always done a lot together. A lot of it is in the form of family traditions.

Traditions are very important to my family, because traditions make things special. They set certain time periods of the year apart from the average day. They become something work toward, look forward to. And, of course, as you may have guessed from such a large family... we love any excuse to come together and eat good food.

We have holiday traditions, seasonal traditions, and other crazy little traditions. And many of them are old-fashioned; heck, a lot of our ideas came from books about old-fashioned traditions. So, I thought it would be fun to name just a few of our favorite traditions. Starting with probably our two most favorite...

Saint Patrick's Day

Perhaps you were expecting Christmas Day to be at the top of the list? Well, it comes close... But, yes, honestly for many of us in the family this Irish feast day has become the greatest family tradition we have ever kept. Maybe it's the fact that it is so perfectly timed at the beginning of Spring, when everything is feeling fresh, and new, the beautiful green colors are returning, everyone feels so much lighter, and happier, maybe even reborn after the long cold days of January and February. I'm not sure what it is exactly, but there is just something about this holiday tradition that, to me, anyway, is unparalleled. So... What do we do? How do we celebrate it?

Well, we start by preparing the house itself. The interior and windows get decorated with green streamers, leprechauns, pots of gold, shamrocks, and lots of green stuff. Morning and afternoon are spent preparing for the dinner—which is homemade Irish stew, the BEST STEW EVER, and Irish soda bread. The stew, in particular, sits in a pot on the stove cooking slowly all day, filling the house with an incredible aroma, while Celtic music plays from CDs or Pandora. Then the whole family gathers together, some of us talk in Irish accents, my brother Tim supplies us with Irish jokes that always make us laugh or groan (usually makes the parents roll their eyes), and we sit at the table, Mom recounts the tale of Saint Patrick, then we feast on stew and bread until we are bursting at the seams. Celtic music is still playing in the background this whole time, by the way. Dinner is followed by shortbread and strawberry shortcake. Usually at some point the kids all go outside in the dark (I usually follow) and play games while the adults sit around the table with full bellies and mugs of coffee, maybe a glass of Irish whiskey, or Irish beer, and discussions arise going in all sorts of directions, pretty much a free-for-all as it usually is when we're all together. Sometimes before the night is over we will break out some card games or board games as well. It's just perfect. Great food, and then just unwinding.

Christmas Season

Here it is, finally. Of course you notice I don't name this section "Christmas Day". That's because for my family Christmas really does last the entire season. And even the season itself is much longer than probably a lot of people celebrate it. As long as I can remember, Christmas season in my family has always begun before Thanksgiving. Yes, that's right. Honestly, some of us in the family begin listening to Christmas music in September. But Thanksgiving week is when it really comes into full blossom. We have had a long-standing tradition of actually decorating the house for Christmas a day or two before Thanksgiving. There is just something perfect about waking up Thanksgiving morning, Christmas decorations glistening all around, the smell of turkey hanging in the house, and the traditional Thanksgiving morning breakfast: Egg McMuffin sandwiches and hashbrowns, while we watch the Thanksgiving Parade on the television.

Our early Christmas spirits have only been aided in recent years when radio stations near us started playing non-stop Christmas music in early November.

Every day during Christmas season really does seem special, at the risk of sounding cheezy. Christmas decorations all over the house and the radio, playing Christmas music, on all day long. Then we get to December, at which point in the early days we go out tree-hunting and then bring it home and put it up. Every year since we were kids my parents have always gotten each of us a new decoration every time, and the decoration usually, though not always, has to do with something big that happened in our lives that year. Then those decorations are the first ones hung up on the tree, and then we shower the rest of the tree with decorations. Now this, and most of the following traditions are not ones we do altogether, but they are ones we do separately with our own families (passing it on to another generation).

A couple weeks leading up to Christmas, we bake an abundance Christmas cookies that get stored in containers and frequently set out on the table on a huge tray when the family comes together.

We also watch Christmas movies almost every night of the season.

Then comes Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve is perhaps the most exciting day of the season, because you feel the excitement of the approaching day, and everything seems to be getting quiet outside as people start settling down in preparation. Just as with Thanksgiving, the scent of turkey baking fills the house while Christmas music plays. Then in the evening we have turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce and vegetables. Then, after dinner, another long-standing family tradition takes place. Again, as long as I can remember, we have had the family tradition of, every Christmas Eve, Mom and Dad give us an early Christmas present of new, fun pajamas. But that's not all. In order to get these gifts we have to go on a scavenger hunt. Mom writes out clues on pieces of paper and hides them around the house (and sometimes even outside in the night) and we take a flashlight, follow and discern the clues, and eventually find the loot. Then we get in the pajamas, gather in the living room with all lights except the Christmas lights off, get out a large tray of cookies, usually get hot chocolate, and sit by the fire and watch the classic A Christmas Story. After that is bedtime. Now, back before I was the last one of the kids at home, we also had the long-standing tradition of all of us kids would sleep in the same room that night. And we carried this on up until the very last one of us. We'd all be piled on the beds and floors in one of the upstairs rooms and usually watch TV shows or movies until we all passed out from exhaustion.

Christmas morning... Well... we used to get up super super early, and actually it got to the point where Mom had to tell us not to come in and wake them up before a certain time. However, in later years as we all got old and tired (like you do), it ironically got to the point where the parents had to wake us up. So, we'd wake up, go out into the hall where full stockings would be hanging, grab them, and then go into Mom and Dad's bedroom, sit on their bed, and open the stocking gifts. While doing that, Dad would usually slip downstairs, start the coffee makers, turn on the Christmas lights, and put on Christmas music.

Then we head downstairs, sit on the floor around the tree... and then the most torturous thing we had to do (specifically when we were kids) was take turns opening our presents. Yup. In my family there was never any ubiquitous ravenous tearing and shredding of wrapping paper... we had to go in turn, so that everyone could see what everyone got. Which was torturous as a kid... but at the same time it was fun in its own way because it made it last longer.

Following that, we'd gather at the table where breakfast was served (a breakfast called "flippers", which is essentially just fried bread dough, dipped in syrup or powdered sugar, served with various breakfast meats), and spend a few hours just laughing and talking. Then eventually go back in the living room, gather up our gifts, plop on the couches, and just go through and admire everything.

Now, in recent years because members of the immediate family have separated to start their own lives and families, what happens now as that at some point during the day the family will come together where we will continue the gift-giving and eating (left overs from Christmas Eve).

In the Past, Christmas still didn't end with Christmas Day. For us it extended until the New Year. When we were kids we would actually stay in our Christmas pajamas the entire week, wake up every morning and head for the living room and just sit on the couches all day looking through our presents and watching movies.

Christmas truly is a Season to us, not just a single day of the year. Every day of the season is just as fun and special as Christmas Day itself.


New Year's Eve and New Year's Day
The year always ends with a great big fun bang. New Year's Eve is the day upon which, if we haven't already, all the presents we have been leaving in the living room have to go into our rooms, and we all finally get out of our pajamas and back into regular clothes. Then the day is spent preparing for the—you guessed it—feast. The New Year's Eve feast is probably the most perfect way to say goodbye to the previous year and hello to the new one. The menu? Homemade meatball sandwiches, cream of broccoli soup, chips, sour cream and onion dip, pickles, crackers and spray-on cheese, and pull-apart/monkey bread for dessert. The difference between this holiday and others is that generally we don't all eat at the same place. Usually people eat in the living room, watching the Pre-Ball-Drop show, or scattered around the table, or leaning on the counters in the kitchen (which is where I usually end up). As always, we talk, joke, laugh, and usually act all 'round silly. And yes, everyone stays until Midnight. Leading up to then we usually break out some board games or card games until everyone is half-asleep... then we eat more food to wake us up. Then at 11:59PM we gather in the living room in front of the TV and watch the ball drop. With the advent of the New Year, most of us rush outside, grabbing pots and pans and wooden spoons along the way, and then we clang them and shout as loud as we can. We also take pennies that have the previous year number on them and throw them out into the darkness. After spending literally ten or fifteen minutes clanging and hollering, we make our way back in the house... and eat some more. Then everyone's usually passing out by 12:30 or 1AM, so we call it a night.

The next morning we wake up to, as with Thanksgiving, Egg McMuffin sandwiches, and usually sit in the living room and watch the New Year's Day parade... but not always... because most of the time we really don't care all that much to watch a bunch of hungover clowns (literally) dancing with umbrellas to the song "Golden Slippers"....

Then we usually conclude the day with leftover meatball sandwiches, relaxing and enjoying ourselves one last time before entering into the rush of the New Year.



Well, there are plenty more traditions to write about, but I think I will save others for a future blog. I look forward to sharing the others, and I look forward to passing these traditions down to, Lord-willing, my family. To me, tradition is just such an integral part in keep a family close together, which is something I think we need in our families now more than ever. So I hope and pray these traditions we pass on to our kids will only spread and continue through generations to come :)

Pike Place Roast: My New Favorite Coffee

So I was walking around the ACME Supermarket a few weeks ago and I wanted to get some new coffee. Specifically I wanted to get a Medium Roast coffee. And the reason I wanted to get a medium roast... CAFFEINE.

Normally I get Dark Roast, because I like to have something that will really give me a punch and wake me up. Because Dark Roast has more caffeine in it....

Or so I thought.

To my surprise, as I read an article about types of coffee on the Internet, contrary to what I thought, the darker the roast the less caffeine is in it. Whoa. Mind-blown. Because I did not know that. I don't know... for some reason I just assumed the darker it was the stronger it was and therefore the more caffeinated it was. But apparently not. But that wasn't really a big deal to me... because I actually was discovering that most of the dark roast coffees I was trying really did taste like cigarette smoke. So, I was excited to try something new. So I went to ACME and browsed through the medium roast coffee. I specifically looked at the Starbucks brand coffees. I saw many traditional ones, like original, or breakfast, and such. But then my eye was caught by the more 'exotic' ones. And my eye first locked onto Starbucks Medium Pike Place Roast. Now, obviously that doesn't really sound exotic, but it's exotic in that it's not a simple name like Traditional or Original or Breakfast Blend :) So... I grabbed it.

A few minutes later I was home with it and getting it ready in my French Press, which—thanks to Julia—I now prefer over automatic drip coffee, though I usually use the latter more often, just because it's honestly simpler. But when I have time I will use the French Press. So, a few minutes after that... I was sipping the best coffee I had ever had in my whole life. Seriously... I don't know that I will ever buy another coffee again.

Okay, maybe I won't go that far. Because admittedly I have not tried the other Starbucks medium roasts. So... maybe there is one even bettererer!

Whoa... I think brain juice just droozled out of my ear at the that of that possibility.