Tragic Sandwich

Tag: tri-tip

  • Holiday Traditions: Roundup

    I hope all of you had a very Merry Christmas–unless you don’t celebrate it, in which case I hope you had a very nice day. We can all use nice days.

    When I was a child (and a teen, and an adult), I was famous in my family for what we called my “Christmas nap.” I’ve never been one for naps, unless I’m sick. Or it’s Christmas. Apparently this dates back to my infancy, when I got tired partway through opening presents and decided to take a nap. This happened. I’ve seen a photo.

    So yesterday we woke up for what was our first Christmas morning in our own home (normally we alternate between Mr. Sandwich’s parents, who are local, and traveling to my side of the family, who are not. We had prepared by pulling out the sofa bed; we already have a developing tradition called “Saturday Night Sofa Bed,” and we decided to extend it to “Christmas Morning Sofa Bed.” I got up a little ahead of everyone to cut up ham (I had made a ham on Friday) for scrambled eggs, and we ate eggs with ham, and apple bread. Then we piled onto the sofa bed to open presents.

    Next up: Elmo. A lot of Elmo. Baguette has a cold and clearly feels terrible, so we’re letting her watch more TV than usual. Maybe this isn’t perfect, but, hey, what do you want to do when you have a cold? Curl up in bed and watch TV. She’s no different.

    After a while, though, it became clear that she was exhausted and sad (she would cry at the end of each “Elmo’s World”), so we bundled her into the car and drove about 10 feet before she fell asleep. We kept driving for a couple of miles in the hope that it would help her stay asleep. And it worked! When we got home, I piled up sofa cushions and laid her down between me and them. The dog snuggled up on my other side, and we all had a nice, relaxing afternoon as she slept for several hours and I read The Hunger Games.

    It’s worth noting here that what this means is that Baguette stole my Christmas nap. But when was the last time I got to read for two hours straight? I don’t know, either.

    Once she was up and fed and bathed and changed (into another fleecy sleeper–sick babies don’t have to dress for dinner, IMO), we headed over to Mr. Sandwich’s parents’ house for dinner. After a meal of tri-tip, mashed potatoes, carrots, and brussels sprouts, we opened more gifts and watched a renewed (if still fussy) Baguette run around the house.

    I’d like to keep the family, food, and Sofa Bed. Baguette and I both vote to skip the colds next time. But to wind everything up, here are a couple of holiday exchanges from the House of Sandwich:

    When Mr. Sandwich got home from his bike ride, I told him how crazy the process of undoing the Fisher Price Noah’s Ark packaging was making me. A moment later, he’s tossing plastic zebras over to me.

    Me: How did you do that?

    Mr. Sandwich: I think three-dimensionally.

    Me: Thanks, Captain Kirk. Now, HOW DID YOU DO THAT?

    #ThisIsWhatHappensWhenTrekkersMarry

    On whether or not it’s worth making another trip out for gifts on Christmas Eve:

    Me: You know I’m very materialistic and not all about the love.

    Mr. Sandwich: I give you my love.

    Me: I want the thing, dammit.

  • Have a Holly, Jolly, Blurry Christmas

    I’ll probably post again before the weekend, but as we’re midway through our various celebrations, this seems as good a time as any to hurl holiday cheer into the Internet void.

    This past weekend, my side of the family came to town for a visit. We went to Baguette’s day care holiday performance (I am conflicted about the existence of such an event, relieved that once again she was not traumatized, and won over by how cute toddlers are), bought a tiny, tiny tree, and cooked a lot of food. Sunday was our Christmukkah celebration (even though Hanukkah didn’t start until last night), which started off with breakfast (apple bread, scrambled eggs, bacon, turkey sausage) and quickly moved on to opening gifts. After that it was time to make dinner:

    • Roast prime rib
    • Yorkshire pudding
    • Maple-glazed carrots
    • Betty Crocker Potatoes Au Gratin

    That last was a nod to my recovery from surgery; while I have a recipe for potatoes au gratin that I love, it is somewhat labor intensive. So I asked for suggestions, and the boxed solution was brought up as an alternative. Let’s just say I wouldn’t do that again.

    This weekend we’ll have a Pirate Christmas gift exchange with some sort-of-local cousins, and we’ll spend part of Christmas Day with Mr. Sandwich’s side of the family. We’re still figuring out which part, though, so we’re not sure if we can count on eating crepes or tri-tip.

    One of the things we struggle with each year is the deluge of gifts. We are by no means minimalists (which you probably guessed by seeing the random assortment of crap in the background of the blurry photo), but we are finding that our holiday gift-giving style is a bit on the lean side.

    I came from a family of bounteous Christmases. It took me far too long to figure out that when people asked what I got, I shouldn’t name every gift, because no one else was getting that many. There were reasons for why my parents (particularly my mother) went overboard, and I understand them. But as time passes, that is less and less my style.

    Mr. Sandwich’s family gives fewer gifts per person, and I’m finding that to be more comfortable. Sometimes the pile of gifts under the tree can feel like an impending avalanche. And I want Baguette to be aware of what she gets, not just have a vague memory that there was a lot of stuff. At the same time, I know that my family just wants to give gifts, and I’m certainly not going to tell them that their generosity isn’t welcome–because it comes from a really good place, and that’s more important than some arbitrary limit on gifts that makes me feel in control of the day.

    But I do really like this idea, from Frugal Mama–stockings filled with messages rather than gag gifts!

    Oh, and this rings true, from The BadAssMama Chronicles.

  • In-laws

    Yesterday my mother-in-law called to say that she was sure I wouldn’t be up to cooking, and that I might not be up to coming over, so she would bring Easter dinner to us. So tonight she and my father-in-law came over for an informal dinner of tri-tip croissant sandwiches, crudites, and apple tart tatin.

    Pretty awesome in-laws, I say.