Monthly Archives: December 2011

The German Pickle

I have a quandary. This being a Hungarian-Puerto Rican family here, we obviously observe a faux German tradition*. We are extremely hoi polloi here. Anyway, tradition holds that you hang a green pickle ornament on the tree on Christmas Eve, and whichever child finds it, gets a special gift.

Found here!

This year, a complaint was filed by Little One against this so-called tradition. You see, her sister is 5′ 8″, and her brother 5′ 10″, and she is still in the “Pocket Venus” range of 5′ 2″, putting her mad searching skillz at a disadvantage. In her opinion, such a tradition is severely biased against the shortest member of the family and, as such, should be banned.

I told her this is the Empire of Aggie™, and the ACLU has no jurisdiction here.

She wisely relented, but asked that I give consideration to her plight, which translated means that she whined until I told her to shut it. But since they all want a shot at the special gift, I have decided that the pickle shall be hidden somewhere in the living room, giving everyone even odds of finding it.

And giving me peace and quiet around here 🙂

*It is celebrated here in the US as a German tradition, but oddly, my friends in Germany have never heard of it, and I found no stories in Bavaria to account for it.


Saturday Sithy

FOR REAL!!!!

Want like BURNING!!! 😀


Chatty Sithy

In what has been a rude awakening for me, it has been brought to my attention that I tend to talk a lot.

ME!!

And lest you think it was done in a subtle manner, by a well-meaning friend, it wasn’t. It was my mom, and it was done out of tough love.

This past Thanksgiving, I drove down to my folks to pick them up so they could spend the holiday with my sister’s family and mine. I live five houses down from my sister, so it’s more convenient to bring up my folks than to caravan down to their place. Also, they get to enjoy the holiday, instead of my mom cooking and cleaning for twenty people. On the drive back from their home, I kept up what I thought was an intelligent conversation about the happenings with the kids, changes in Hubby’s schedule, my new vehicle, etc., when suddenly, my mom pipes up:

Mom: My goodness, (Aggie)! You just don’t shut up!

Me: Wha…??

Mom: You have been talking non-stop since we left the house!

Me: Well, I have a lot to say, mom.

Mom: Why?

Me: Because I don’t get to talk to anyone!!

Mom: But you never talked much growing up…

Me: That’s because my sisters never let me.

Mom: Hm…that’s true.

So yes, I do talk a lot. I make no excuses for it. I am simply trying to catch up after 35 years of being a relatively quiet person. And now that I have a blog, I can type as much as I want! 😉


No Coal For YOU!

Well, it’s that time of year again. The time when people everywhere are scrambling around to get their Christmas gift shopping done before the inevitable “What did you get me??” moment sets in. There is nothing attractive about someone with a deer-in-the-headlights look on their face. Especially when it’s your significant other who should know better by now.

Moving on (before a tirade sets in), here is a gift guide for the holiday that will hopefully make things easy….well, easier….ok, not get anyone in trouble.

As a general rule, women hate getting clothing for Christmas, unless they get to pick it out themselves. Sometimes our significant others tend to buy the wrong size. This is a losing situation for them: too small, and we cry about needing a bigger size, or too big, and we cry because they think we are fat. But PJs are different!! The only thing men have to remember is what kind to get. Trust me, you do not want to get a hankie with straps at Victoria’s Secret when your beloved prefers 7 oz weight flannel.

Or vice versa.

Anyway, you can’t go wrong with a PajamaGram. They have beautiful PJs in different styles, and all of them come in a sweet hatbox. You can even have the PJs personalized.

Comfy and cute! And warm…very warm!! And you can wear these all day. Total win!!

Another good gift to give is the gift of scent. Trust me when I say that a woman is more apt to be impressed by a bottle of perfume than by a car deodorizer, ok? However, a man can’t just pick something willy-nilly and think he’s going to get kudos. Tresór by Lancôme may be the second best selling perfume in the world, but that doesn’t mean it will smell like it on her skin. Perusing her vanity table and paying attention to what she wears is crucial here. If that isn’t a possibility, then go out of this world to get her something special!

Zen perfume was synthesized from the scent of roses that were sent up to the space station. Turns out, the scent of roses change when in zero gravity. Yes, I want to grow roses in zero gravity now. What??

Of course, some of y’all will just be too terrified about picking the wrong thing, be it clothing or perfume. In this case I say, go for the bling. Jewelry never fails, as long as it’s not a gangster emblem hanging from a huge chain. That’s just tacky. Necklaces and bracelets are always a safe bet, because you don’t need to know sizes for rings, or if she has pierced ears (you should know these things by now, but I will cut you some slack here). A very popular trend right now is the charm bracelet. Some, like Pandora™ and Trollbeads™, tend to be very pricey, but there are other options that are more affordable, like Brighton. They have a huge selection of charms, which makes making a unique personalized bracelet very easy.

Just remember to pay attention to her favorite things, and you can’t go wrong!

Hope you enjoyed shopping with Aggie. The next installment will be Blood, Sweat, and Tears. Also known as Valentine’s Day 😉


At Dawn We Slept

Seventy years ago today, what was then the Empire of Japan attacked our Naval base at Pearl Harbor, waking us up to the reality that isolationism was no longer an option. In all, 2,402 Americans were killed and 1,282 wounded. The largest casualties were borne by the U.S.S. Arizona, which lost 1,177 Americans.

With confidence in our armed forces – with the unbounded determination of our people – we will gain the inevitable triumph – so help us God. — President Franklin Delano Roosevelt

Oil still weeps like tears on the water, and I am reminded to keep an eternal vigilance against all enemies, those that shout, and those who keep their silence as they plot to strike against us.


For the Birds

I am a big mystery fan, especially old school stuff. I can read Hammett and Christie and everything in between over and over again. The same applies for movies. The older stuff, grainy black and white, suspenseful music…ahhhh, that’s just classic.

A few weeks ago, one of the networks had an Alfred Hitchcock marathon. Y’all can imagine how jazzed I was! Four classics back to back, and no, Marnie wasn’t one of them, thank goodness. Psycho, Rear Window, The Trouble With Harry, and Rope. I got my tissues*, my cup of coffee, and my cozy throw, and sat next to Little One, who was home sick with a tummy bug. I had asked her if I could watch them and she was gracious enough to let me.

This is where y’all roll your eyes, just like I did.

First up is Psycho, and I’m enjoying it immensely, when I notice that Little One has turned over to face the TV and watch the film. I warned her that it was suspenseful, and a bit scary, but she told me she could handle it. And boy, did she handle it. At the end of the film she was raving about how awesome it was, and how we should get the DVD for it (I have it, but didn’t want her to go get it and demand to watch it again, since she missed the first fifteen minutes or so). Anyway, we end up watching all four movies and she asks me if Hitchcock made any others as suspenseful as those. “Many”, I said. “Do you have more?” she asked. “But of course, but I don’t think you are ready for some of them.” “Like which ones?” she wondered. And my soul froze, thinking of the one Hitchcock film that still manages to freak me out and leave me sleepless for days!!

I told her about Rebecca, and North by Northwest, but I kept The Birds to myself. I know my kid, and the moment she finds out birds start attacking humans in a sleepy little town, she is going to want to watch it, in the dark, all agog at Tippy Hedren in her beautiful green suit getting ravaged by crows. And then she’s going to want to sleep in my bed, where I will lay in the dark, waiting to hear the flap of wings on my roof.

No, thank you. I like being mistress of my domain.

*I always cry when Martin Balsam is killed off.


Drama Queen

No, this isn’t about my friend The Queen. She abhors drama, unless it’s in a book or TV show. No, this is about Shakespeare!!

I love reading the works of Shakespeare. Very few works stir my soul as much as his do. I suppose being Hispanic and having the gift of talking with my hands lends itself to interpreting Shakespeare. Either that, or I just like living vicariously through literature. It’s a toss-up.

Right now, Eldest’s class is dissecting Hamlet. I was totally jazzed about this, because I have studied the play many times, with different teachers as well as helping other students in college with papers and the like. I was READY FOR THE CHALLENGE!!

Until…

Eldest: Mom, sorry, but I can’t let you help me with this.

Me: Wha….??

Eldest: Our teacher wants us to do this blind, write the first thing that we think of for each passage.

Me: (still not grasping the concept) But….

Eldest: (smirking a bit) Sorry mom…

Me: Sigh….

So much for me helping my kids with something I actually know. Let’s face it: Statistics drives me into hysterics and makes me want to cut someone. Ditto for Physics (stop glaring, LC LtC). Just once I want to be the one the kids seek for homework help….

Until then, I will content myself with being the lead Drama Queen around here.

SOMEONE GET ME SOME CYBER SMELLING SALTS!!! 😀


Sunday Sithy

Well, it has rained all weekend, which is a blessing around here. Like any normal woman I asked where the heck this was back in the summer. So, I am going to enjoy today with a wonderful cup of coffee and/or tea and leave you with a Sithy:

Hope y’all enjoy your Sunday!! 😀


To Bling, or Not to Bling

Every year Hubby’s work has a holiday ball. We attend, mostly because it’s the only night of the year when we can get all dressed up. This year I was not attending obviously, and very glad that I didn’t have to hunt for yet another evening gown, when my friend, whose hubby doesn’t care to go, decided on a fabulous idea: our “circle” of wives gets together, dressed to the nines, for an evening out on the town. We are talking limousine and champagne here, people!

So the question is, do I wear bling? So many gilded lilies can make people blind, you know 😉


Weird Conversations, and Why I Shouldn’t Be Allowed to Talk Before I Have Coffee

I swear, sometimes it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed. Last night I went to bed rather late, since Eldest was practicing her Parade and March stuff for ROTC in the kitchen, and right as I fell asleep I got an anxiety attack, so I laid in bed waiting for an hour for it to subside, thinking stupid existentialistic crap that probably solved the world’s problems, but I promptly forgot after dreaming about narwhals. Why narwhals? Because Eldest had been talking about them a couple of days ago. Crap like that just lies in wait to assault my REMs.

This morning I got up, and tripped over the little dog as I made my way with one eye open to the coffeemaker. You would think I could not screw that up, right? But noooo…. instead of creamer I poured lemon juice into my cup of coffee, not looking because A) the bottles are similar in color and size, and 2) the dog was barking to be let out. I’m hiding the bottle of lemon juice in the back of the fridge from now on.

So, I have my second cup with creamer, just in time to Skype with Hubby. YAY!! So, we talk about stuff going on over there and soon enough we are all, “Oh I miss you honey!” and “I miss you too!” and then we talk of how some stuff over there is so weird and suddenly for no reason I say:

I know! I just don’t understand why they (Muslims) would want 72 virgins. I mean, that just doesn’t make sense to me. I would rather have 72 hookers. They would know what they are doing, right?

And Hubby just looks at me with a lot of pity, because that part of the conversation had absolutely nothing to do why we miss each other. Or maybe it did, and I missed it. All I know is that today is a three pot of coffee day and I am soooo going to have a nap.