The Delta Lodge at Kananaskis

Our Christmas was all about giving each other “experiences.” My brother and sister-in-law threatened to take us to the killer workout Ripped but I mercifully got sick and they instead porked us up at the city’s nicest steakhouse. And for The Parents Who Have Everything, my husband Jamie and I decided we would whisk them away on an overnighter in the Canadian Rockies.

Lest you think this was a bit over-the-top, it helped we were already vacationing at their home in Calgary.

I wanted somewhere that was kid-friendly, fairly close and most importantly, had gorgeous views of the Canadian Rockies. Long ago, I had bookmarked The Delta Lodge at Kananaskis as a potential destination. Never heard of Kananaskis Country? Take it from me: it is Alberta’s best-kept secret. While all the other tourists are heading to nearby Banff or Jasper, locals sneak off to Kananaskis’ 4,000-square kilometer outdoor playground, which is just as beautiful but without the crowds and cost.

And yes, I am quoting the size in kilometers. All you non-metric people need to get with the program (and rest of the world).

The Delta Lodge is consistently rated as one of Alberta’s best family hotels and upon check-in, each of the children received a packet of fun Christmas crafts and toys. I really didn’t have an agenda because there is a lot to do in the area with a nearby tobogganing hill, a gorgeous walk along the Rim Trail, an outdoor pond for skating, a pool and spa, game room and Nakiska ski resort, site of the 1988 Olympic Alpine events.

But here’s the deal. It was cold. We were lazy. And The Delta Lodge had already served up a full plate of Christmas activities that we couldn’t resist. We made banana boats and roasted them on a campfire. My daughter wrote a letter to Santa and was delighted to find a response under the door the next morning.

Funny. The only thing they slipped me was the bill.

And there was the Elf Tuck-In Service. IMG 1098

Yes, people. At bedtime, an elf came to snuggle up to my children and read them Christmas stories before tucking them into bed. As I watched my children giggle in wonderment, I had an epiphany: my childhood sucked. Sure, I had love. Sure I had stability. BUT WHERE WAS MY ELF?

But the highlight of the whole trip was when my mom and I skipped out on swimming and played “Merry Christmas Bingo” with Mrs. Claus. I can’t explain it but I have had an unhealthy obsession with Bingo. Jamie banned me from playing on our recent cruise, possibly fearing we’d be in the only ones in there without bifocals and that this was my version of a mid-life crisis.

Turns out, we were the only people in the room without young children. At first, I felt subconscious. What if I actually won? Would my victory be frowned upon by the other children and parents? But then I got caught in the crossfire of a 13-year-old boy’s mini-marshmallow attack. He unapologetically sneered at me. I glared back. And then war was declared.

Rudolph, Santa’s Hat and Wreaths–all these images were on my Bingo card and I became obsessed with covering them with my mini-marshmallow Bingo chips. Mrs. Claus droned on and on until finally, a perfect letter ‘X’ was formed. I momentary paused, savoring the victory yet wondering if I should quietly and modestly announce it.

“MERRRRRRRRY CHRISTMASSSSS!” I ended up shouting.

After all, I have never been quiet or modest about anything.

Turns out the joke was on me. When I went to redeem my prize, the only ones available were for kids 12 and under. I finally snatched up a ceramic piggy bank with accompanying paints, acting like it was just like what I always wanted.

And maybe it was. In fact, I’ll probably even paint it bronze.

The economic downturn hits home

If I were to look back on 2008, I would it was the year of ebbs and tides. Our little family has had a multitude of blessings and not a day has passed that I did not feel infinitely blessed. That I kissed and snugged them. That I laughed at their antics and marveled at who they are becoming.

But this has also been the year of job stress.

Jamie’s consulting gig recently came to an abrupt halt when his client (who has been past due on hundreds of thousands of dollars) declared bankruptcy. To make ends meet, Jamie’s boss had been paying him out-of-pocket to keep him around until other clients pulled through but guess what: bankruptcy is a deal breaker. Not being able to make payroll, they had to let Jamie go. They will bring him back when new clients sign on. But with the problematic economy, we don’t know if/when that will happen.

A little summary of 2008:

February–Jamie thrown under the bus and laid off by incompetent Senior VP. Receives three-month severance.
March–Applies for Unemployment Insurance. Company denies it. Goes to court vs. former boss. Jamie wins the case it was determined he was let go without just cause. Company realizes the problem was with former boss, not Jamie. She is fired.
April–Jamie starts great consulting gig.
October–Up for VP position with stock. Then came the economic downturn. Pending clients refuse to sign on until the market changes. Small company feeling pressure.

And then there is the now. This time around, I am not in as much shock. I just feel tired and worried he will not be able to find anything in this crummy economy. I don’t care if he makes the big bucks. I just want security.

Is there even such a thing anymore?

Jamie’s parents dropped a bombshell: they want to sell their house and move to Utah. Fortunately, everything is on hold and we are relieved. If they were like many in-laws, I would willingly show them the door. But they’re not. They are the most important people in our lives and I don’t know what we will do without them. Our two main reasons for being in Colorado were them and a good job.

This recent development has expanded our job searches to out-of-state.

This is a tough one for me to say. I love Colorado. I love our home we have slaved over. And I love our life most of all. Of course, moving is a last resort but I keep reminding myself that a house is just a house and we will find friends and adventure anywhere we go.That if we are going to move, now would be a great time while the kids are young. I just hate the uncertainty.

On a positive note, recent developments have not affected our Christmas spirit. On the contrary. The lights seem so much brighter, my children more delightful and the true meaning of the holiday burns deep. It hasn’t been about focusing on what we do not have but rather, what we have. And we have a lot. I only need to turn on the news to see there are many people much worse off than us.

This Christmas, I will be counting my blessings.

My $1,000 Christmas Almond Rocha Recipe (and let’s hear your favorites!)

So, I’m busy. Really busy. And like most of you, life won’t calm down until after the holidays and that is when I will begin posting more regularly again.

Christmas Baking Week is upon me. I approach it each year with great alacrity, as Christmas Baking Week = Christmas Eating Week.

My bakefest generally consists of egg nog snickerdoodles, cream cheese cutout cookies, homemade chocolate suckers, caramel toffee squares, sugar ‘n spice cookies, white chocolate snowball swirl cookies, vanilla fudge and of course, my $1,000 Almond Rocha. Not familiar with the latter item? Let me take you back, back, back to this infamous recipe’s christening.

About seven years ago, I was having major problems with a certain tooth (that still gives me headaches toothaches today) and had pumped more than $1,000 into it. First, there was the root canal. Then the crown. Then the painful abscess. Then the retreatment surgery. Then the filling to repair the retreatment. I had just had what I thought was my final appointment.

Until I started my Christmas baking and made Almond Rocha. My first mistake.

My second mistake was thinking I could actually eat it. Innocently, I chomped down. The candy was harder, crunchier than I remembered. Now, I usually don’t make a habit of spitting out my food but something was REALLY wrong and so I regurgitated the particularly crunchy portion.

And what to my wondering eyes should appear? But my tooth. Not my crown, but the actual, veritable tooth. I reacted as one would expect: I let out a blood-curdling scream. My roommates at the time came running and offered their horror and sympathy.

And then they proceeded to eat the rest of my $1,000 Almond Rocha in front of me, with all their teeth in tact.

That Christmas, there was coal in their stockings.

And a tooth or two.

Happy Birthday to Hunky Hubby!

It is ma honey’s birthday today. Some people would say that he puts up with a lot having me as his wife.

And they would be correct.

But it goes both ways.

He demonstrated his obsession during our recent annual gingerbread house decorating contest at Grandma’s. Oh wait. I forgot. Pacifist Grandma always corrects us that “this is all about family bonding and it is not a contest.”

Yeah, right.

Any guesses as to which house he decorated with Bode? Hint: The front yard is very telling.

1)

2)

3)

Happy birthday to my wonderful husband who is never boring.

Well, except for when he drones on and on about poultry compost, alfalfa meal, bone meal, green sand, humic acid, organic 10-5-5 fertilizer with calcium, tree leaves, elemental sulphur, peat moss and aluminum sulphate….

XOXOXXOXO
Amber

I’ll Be Home for Christmas and Evidence I Am the Neglected Middle Child

Christmas is not Christmas unless I am home in Canada. I am fine being away from The Motherland for every other season and holiday but there is something about being home for holidays. Actually, a lot of “somethings” that include a rousing game of bum darts and the Pollock rendition of 12 Days of Christmas.

We may not be politically correct but it’s never boring.

If I had my way, we would go home every Christmas but we alternate locations because I married a man who 1) has family here in Colorado and 2) stubbornly refuses to work for the airlines so I can fly for free.

I had been stressing about this Christmas. With the crummy economy and airline tickets that have been jacked up due to rising fuel costs, it was a very real possibility we would not be able to afford it even though it is our year to go home.

I shopped for tickets back in October and the cheapest I could come up with during peak travel times was $800 + taxes. Multiple that by four and it is equal to more than I make in a month. OK, a year.

I stumbled upon a site that compares all the prices from the leading travel sites and I was able to play around with dates and numbers. At first, I couldn’t get it for under $3,200. But I figured out how to save some money by having the kids and I depart one week earlier than my husband and we would then all fly back together.

The upside: We saved almost $1,000 and gosh darn it, we get to go home for the holidays!

The downsides: We still payed a fortune (more than I make in a decade) and won’t have much money left for presents. But the most dreadful thing of all: there are layovers both ways. And one of those “ways” will involve solo travel with The Children.

If you remember my travel travails of last summer (think bird in the windshield), you will wonder if my head is screwed on straight. It surely is, but it’s just facing the wrong direction.

Nonetheless, after weeks of agonizing about it, I was ecstatic to be going home. I called my mom that night.

“Guess what, Mom. We were able to save some money on airline tickets AND WE’RE COMING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS!”

“Oh really? Is this your year to come?”

Which Witch is Which (and other Salem findings)

Our Halloween celebrations are in full swing and I am lovin’ life these days. It could be the cooler temperatures or the fun decorations. Or maybe it’s the parties, costume parades or the abundance of pumpkins for this pumpkin-obsessed family. And not to be forgotten is the emergence of my ghost salad tongs.

What? Like your mom doesn’t send you salad tongs for every season.

As aforementioned, Jamie and I went to Boston for one of the world’s largest pumpkin weigh-offs at The Topsfield Fair. He was as giddy as a kid in a candy storea grown man freaking out over big pumpkins.

And I’m not talking about the female variety.
I admittedly don’t have room to talk. I relished being in a region that celebrates fall and Halloween. Where every other house was decorated, pumpkins were revered and where Salem’s witch population provides for great entertainment.

Just so long as you stay on their good side.

Jamie and I stayed at Fox Pond B&Bin Marblehead, a quaint coastal town outside of Salem. Our first night, we really wanted some fresh seafood so upon the recommendation of the B&B’s owner we ate at The Barnacle, a cozy seafood haunt on the water. I am not much of a seafood lover but make the exception “When in Rome” and resolved to try some shrimp or lobster.

Until I was told that pumpkin ravioli with butternut squash cream sauce was the daily special. And how was it?

Think deli scene from When Harry Met Sally.

But really, the must-see destination for any Halloween lover was Salem. There was a profusion of fall colors, oodles of tacky tourists vying to see the sundry of witch museums and best of all, witches. Or at least folks dressed up as them.

More than 40,000 people descend upon Salem in October. My only goal was to buy something that I could display every year so I could profess we bought it from The Witch Capital of the World.

Easier said than done.

I dragged Jamie to all the tacky tourist stores and I was tempted by their wares but never swayed.

Until I saw IT. The bain to my wenchy…errr…witchy existence: a witch’s hat with flowing tendrils. It was like the Sorting Hat on Harry Potter. From the moment I put it on, it knew me and I knew we had been separated at birth.

Unfortunately, Jamie was not in agreement. Much to his chagrin, I insisted upon wearing The Hat the rest of the day and he had his own coping mechanisms for our new addition.

“Why are you not walking with me?” I accused.
“I am walking with you. It’s just far away.”

And so it is in the life of a witch.

The Lord of the Gourd: A Q&A

Thank you for your overwhelming support for The Great Pumpkin. So many questions, so much sympathy re: my neglected status. I have been asked what our real garden is like and my answer? What garden? Jamie says the reason our garden did not flourish is due to a pesky vole.

I say the reason was the inordinate about of time spent on The Great Pumpkin.

Jamie could not keep up with all the great comments about his 755-pound beast so, for the first time ever, The Great Lord of the Gourds is making his first verbatim appearance on my blog. Join me in welcoming him as he answers some of your questions! (And please excuse the spacing issues on this post; evidently The Great Pumpkin even defies HTML regulations).

1) So did massive amount of Miracle Gro go into this bad boy or what’s the secret?

This pumpkin was grown completely organic, including the small boy up the street that it ate three weeks ago.It was sad to see the boy go but the pumpkin put on 40 pounds that day. Many growers will use MiracleGro and the like to grow giant pumpkins but most of the heavy hitters go completely organic so they can build up the soil and plant on the same spot year after year.

2) What are your plans for The Great Pumpkin?

We are going to cut a hole into the top of it like a Kayak, put it in a lake and paddle around.It is plenty big and buoyant enough to use it as a boat for an adult. Editor’s note: Dear Lord, please do not let The Great Pumpkin sink. I cannot bear to see a grown man cry.

3) How much pumpkin pie will that thing make? And pumpkin bread, cake.

Mmmmm. Love the pumpkin bread. Unfortunately, Dill’s Giant Atlantic variety pumpkins aren’t very good eating I’m told. Editor’s note: thank heavens for this response. Gutting and cooking up that pumpkin would be akin to life as a hunter’s wife.

4) Wow. I’m trying to imagine how much watering/care/etc. a giant pumpkin takes. And yard space!

This pumpkin plant was 30 feet wide by 30 feet long.The pumpkin didn’t fill the entire space but it did take a full 600 square feet of space.Once the plant was completely grown (about 1.5 months old) it was given about 2.5 inches of water per week.I usually tended to the plant about 30-60 minutes per day although Amber would tell you it was about
3-6 hours per day. Editor’s note: And Amber would be correct.

5) When I picture this whole thing in my mind …I just have to laugh. The great pumpkin? The whole pumpkin hobby? The planning of vacations and weekends around what else? Pumpkins! Expound.

Some call it obsession, others passion.Let’s be honest however. How many of us have planned our day around a television show(s) or other fruitless endeavors. At least mine produced some fruit. Actually a whole lot of it! lol

6) I will have to consult with your husband next
year. LONG have I wanted to grow pumpkins, but all three times I’ve tried the vines have sort of melted. Overwatering? General gardening lameness?

Melted?Hmmmm.I would say go to Denver Pumpkins and read what I did.If you start from the very first post you can get a blow by blow of the entire pumpkin season.If that doesn ’t work I’d suggest selling your hoe and giving your shovel a rest. Editor’s note: I’ve been called a lot of things but hoe is probably the most offensive.

7) I’m assuming conversation is going to turn to the new crop, it’s not to early to start planning, is it? What are next year’s plans?

Next years plans are for more pumpkins and a new patch.This year I grew at my parent’s house.That freaked them out the first half of the growing season so I am now going to be growing in the farmer’s field behind my house. Something about yelling at my mom for not throwing her body over the pumpkin plant, like a soldier throwing himself on a grenade, during the 2nd hail storm of the season didn’t sit very well with her (I think my parents actually started enjoying it as the season went on however because it is really kind of fun watching the monster grow).

I have already had a soil test done on the field and have started to purchase the proper amendments to make sure the soil is to world class levels next spring. In the coming weeks I will be adding 5 yards of manure and many pounds of organic fertilizers and minerals to the soil.Next year I will have 3 plants (one for the kids) which will allow me to push the pumpkins a little harder in the hopes of getting to 1,000 pounds. Editor’s note: Great. That means I have a one-week vacation before pumpkin season starts all over again.

8) This might be a stupid question, but when you cut open this giant pumpkin, are the seeds giant, or normal size seeds? Just curious. That’s a great family photo! Jamie doesn’t name the pumpkin does he?

Giant pumpkin seeds tend to be a little bigger than the regular pumpkin seeds. They usually have a harder shell too. This year’s pumpkin’s name is DillBoy. Howard Dill is the inventor of Dill’s Giant Atlantic pumpkin seeds that all of the top growers use for competition.He passed away in May due to cancer.The seed that I grew on actually came from Howard so I name the pumpkin DillBoy in honor of him. Editor’s note: it is sentimental talk like this that makes me worried the man will indeed bury me inside of a pumpkin. Lord, please don’t let me go
first.

9) My question for your interview with Linus (er, Jamie)…how lucky are you to have a wife who not only allows the growing of the Great Pumpkin…but also throws a party for said pumpkin?

I couldn ’t agree with you more.My good wife not only put up with the pumpkin growing, but early in the season surprised me for Father’s Day with a trip for the two of us toTopsfield, Salem and Boston so I could go to the granddaddy of big pumpkin weigh-offs in Topsfield, Massachusetts.

The pumpkin party was completely my idea however.She said more than once “Who is going to go to a pumpkin party? And what are people going to do at a pumpkin party?”My answer, “Stare at the pumpkin.”She just said “whatever” to my reply until it dawned on her that I had invited some of her friends to the party and they had actually accepted. Horror struck my Party Princess wife when she realized that I was serious!

In the end, when the party was all done and the 30-40 guests had all gone home with smiles on their faces that a giant pumpkin has a strange sort of power. We all grew up reading children’s books with abnormally sized objects (fruit, shoes, beanstalks, eggs, candy, vegetables).
As a result we kind of think of the whole giant thing as kind of whimsical thing that is way outside of reality.When you see a giant pumpkin for the first time it so breaks the mold of our accepted reality that we have to stare at it in wonder. The typical question, “Is it real or is it fiberglass?” is understandable because the whole thing doesn’t make any sense.How could food be that big?It is like staring at a children’s story book come to life.But then you touch it and stare at it some more the whole thing slowly becomes wonderful because it is like a children’s story book come to life.What could be better than seven hundred pounds of wonderful food all in a single fruit!? Editor’s note: sniff. No comment. Maybe I am a sentimental pumpkin-lovin’ fool after all….

How you know your Easter festivities have sunk to a new low

You are one of only a few families invited to a friend’s Easter egg hunt where they stuffed about 1,000 eggs and hid them all over their huge backyard.

You know you have sunk to a new low when:

1) A certain father shadows his daughter around the yard. When her bucket is full, instead of quitting like she wants, you convince her to keep hunting and completely fill your jacket full of eggs.

2) You later find your outgoing daughter, stripped down to her panties, sitting on a bed reading a book while her friends play outside.

3) When you hear there are several eggs with $2 bills inside, a certain mother shoves little children aside to shake every single egg, listening for the money.

4) All of the above.

P.S. How was YOUR Easter?

Party All the Time

Reader beware: there will be an inordinate amount of pictures posted this week because this is what happens in the life of a Halloween-obsessed person. Last weekend, we trunk-or-treated and partied.

There were also fall walks-
Pumpkin patch fun-
And cute babies in general.

And not to be forgotten is Haddie’s 3rd annual Halloween party (which inspired yet another one of Hunky Hubby’s great profundities).

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On Friday, my daughter threw her third annual Halloween bash that included an inordinate amount of hairspray and the disturbing confirmation: Like Mother, Like Daughter. [Insert evil cackle here.]


We also played games such as Pin the Nose on the Pumpkin, indulged in devilish epicurean creations including my green slime chocolate fountain, read a haunting story with Dora the Explorer who made a celebrity appearance and had a free-for-all civilized candy hunt in our backyard.

No children were harmed in the throwing of the celebration. However, there was one tired mama at the end of it all. Between the party, trips and the continuous barrage of Rockies games, it has been a very long time since we have just stayed home and relaxed.

I called my husband to ask if we could do just that. Now, something you need to understand is he is usually the one who, after his long work day, is harassed by your truly to go out. This time, The Man took full advantage of our role reversal.

“…and so I thought we could just stay in tonight.”

“Stay in, Amber? We’ve done nothing but stay in. I want to go play”

“But I’m really tired.”

“Tired? Aren’t you the one who always says ‘I am sick of being at home. We need to go out and do something. The kids need a break. Let’s go for a walk. Super Target is having a sale. Let’s go spy on the neighbors. Blah blah blah blah blah.’”

Note: The Man’s mimicking was executed in a high-pitched voice that I assure you I do not possess. Except for when it was a particularly shrill-inducing kind of day.

After several minutes of this, I finally sighed and waved my white flag.

“OK, Jamie you win. So what do you want to do? ”

“Nothing.”