And once again, my universe rights itself…

Smooth Sailing by Nancy Dunne
Smooth Sailing, a photo by Nancy Dunne on Flickr.

I worked a LOT in November. A LOT. Many, many hours. As a result…

I’M GOING TO KEIGHLEY FOR CHRISTMAS!!

I’m sort of chuffed, in case you couldn’t tell? All of my angst and depression goes away when I think that I’ll be with my Mister (and my MeiMei) in just about 22 days. Ho Ho Ho Happy Christmas to me!

Mind you, the flight could have been cheaper, but it wasn’t to be…nor did it matter. See above working a LOT in November. See me grinning like an idiot.

Yeah, so, that’s good news. Yeah. Apologies for the Nancy you’ve come to hate over the past few months. She’s MUCH better now.

Shrove Tuesday Meal Attempt

I know that I’m not the best cook in the world. Well aware of that fact, acutally…just consider my other culinary disasters, including but not limited to the time I put french onion soup powder into spaghetti with meat sauce or my famous Nancy’s Noodle Nightmares where I can’t STOP adding ingredients to the skillet…but this time I think it might NOT have been my fault.

Yesterday was Shrove Tuesday/Fat Tuesday/Mardi Gras/The Day Before Ash Wednesday and it is traditional in some parts of the world to eat pancakes on this day.

Shrove Tuesday is the term used in the United Kingdom,[1] Australia,[2] and Canada to refer to the day after Shrove Monday (or the more old fashioned Collop Monday) and before Ash Wednesday (the liturgical season of Lent begins on Ash Wednesday). In Ireland, the UK, and amongst Anglicans, Lutherans and possibly other Protestant denominations in Canada including Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island and New Brunswick, this day is also known as Pancake Day or Pancake Tuesday, because it is customary to eat pancakes on this day.[3][4][5] In other parts of the world—for example, in historically Catholic and French-speaking parts of the United States and elsewhere—this day is called Mardi Gras. In areas with large Polish-immigrant populations (for example, Chicago) it is known as Tłusty Czwartek and celebrated on the Tuesday before Lent. And in areas with large German-immigrant populations (for example, Pennsylvania Dutch Country) it is known as Fasnacht Day (also spelled Fausnacht Day and Fauschnaut Day). [from Wikipedia]

After hearing Simon and Liz talk about their pancakes, I became inspired to try to make some myself. After all, the recipe that Liz gave me in IM didn’t seem that difficult and I had all the ingredients…sorta.

2 cups flour
2 cups milk
pinch of salt
2 tbsp butter

I assembled the ingredients:


Mixed up a fairly runny batter:


And poured it in the pan, tilting it to spread the batter, and waiting for the bubbles before I flipped it.


Problem is, my skillet isn’t even close to flat and they were burning (we’re talking smoke!) in the middle. So I ended up with gloppy and gross pancakes.


I’m so sad that I used the last of my strawberry jam on the one on the right. Neither was edible. So for the last one I stopped trying to pretend I was English and ate it the old fashioned American way…slathered with “Tastes Like Butter!” and drowned in “Light Lowfat Maple Syrup.”


Note to Self: Ask Santa for proper electric skillet for Christmas this year.

Red Stockings and Scripture Readings

Here’s my holiday advice, free of charge. If you buy a smashing new jumper (the American meaning, a short dress…not the English meaning/a sweater) that’s all pretty and Christmasy plaid and looks outstanding with your new favorite red Old Navy turtleneck, and you’re slated to read a lesson during the “Lessons and Carols” Christmas Eve service at your Dad’s church, don’t wear red tights. Seriously. I caught sight of myself in the window at the chinese restaurant where we ate after church (the only place in town open) and let’s just say Santa’s Elves have got NOTHING on me.

Further, should you try on said jumper and think “Oh, it’s a bit tight here and there but that will just hold all of me in nicely and the plaid will hide my Michelin Man physique…” You are wrong, my friend, wrong wrong wrong.

Imagine my joy when, in my short plaid too tight jumper and BLINDING red turtleneck and tights (just say a small prayer of thanks that I took off the red shoes in favor of black ones, since the red shoes have a tendency to slip off at the wrong moment…oh, and they’re RED), the decision was made that those doing readings would sit in the choir loft…facing the congregation.

Well. At least I didn’t mispronounce anything in my reading and didn’t fall off the stage or onto the poor, now blinded people I was sitting next to on the pew. Happy Christmas, y’all. I think I need another cuppa tea.

How NOT to take a Christmas Photo

You’re gonna jump in here with us, right Mommy? (Jeany and Daisy hang their heads in shame….)

Happy Headless Holidays!

Wrestlin’ around the Christmas Tree…

(that one was so not funny at the time, I was trying to swing Daisy’s butt around and at the same time she dug her nails in Hunky ran away…but looking at it now Jeany’s face is like “Oh, Mommy that is SO not going to work!!” :lol)

Okay, this is…wait, are we in frame?…CRAP!


You guys got a BETTER way to do this?


Yeah…photoshop the dogs in later. Merry Christmas, y’all!