Dear Kid,

“WOW! This is Fan-TAS-tic! Thank you SO MUCH!!!”

The words gush out as we open presents and they are lovely to hear. Well, they are lovely to hear if the gift giver is in the room. Actually, they are lovely to hear even if the gift giver isn’t in the room, but the gift giver can’t hear the thank you if not present (pun intended).

I really hope you followed that.

Enter: The Thank You Note.

The first Thank You Note was written by Joe Neanderthal. He wrote it to a Saber Tooth Tiger who had generously eaten Joe’s friend Blorg rather than Joe. It looked something like this:

Interestingly, that particular Saber Tooth Tiger never ate Joe. Joe assumed that this was because of the Thank You Note (in reality, it was because Blorg caused the Saber Tooth Tiger to have a very upset stomach from which he died).

From then on, Joe insisted that everyone write thank you notes. Mrs. Joe Neanderthal was so surprised she forgot to be annoyed.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

You are not going to believe this.

In my search for Truth and Knowledge about The 7 Kinds of Soup Bowls, I discovered that there are 7 Kinds of Cups (not counting the boy-playing-sports kind which I plan to ignore today). There is also the Four Cups of wine theory but not talking about that today either.

Because I am That Kind of Mom, I simply couldn’t leave you not knowing about the 7 Kinds of Cups. So without further ado (oh, who am I kidding? With me, there is generally more “ado” than not), I present to you the Seven Cups.

Let’s start with the most interesting, the Chocolate Cup.

It will probably distress you to know that (in this case) the chocolate cup is not made of chocolate, taking what could have been a Very Interesting Discussion all the way down the Ladder of Interesting and stashing it behind a dusty chair.

Once upon a time there was breakfast which is just about the best thing ever especially when paired with Once Upon a Time. Hot chocolate was made (for breakfast) using unsweetened chocolate mixed with cream into which sugar and hot frothy milk were poured. Because it was quite delicious, cups were big (although they weren’t made out of chocolate). But if you were going to have chocolate at afternoon tea (which is counter intuitive but whatev), then you would drink it from a small cup that would leave you wanting more which you couldn’t ask for because that would be tacky. See how much better chocolate cups made from actual chocolate would have been? Then instead of following strict social standards around tea time behavior we could be discussing how to get chocolate stains out of frocks a la SueAnn Nivens (extra points all around even if you don’t get the reference).

Bottom line. There is such a thing as a chocolate cup (and saucer). We don’t have any in our house. Just grab a mug. Everyone will be happier.

The breakfast cup (and saucer) was invented because drinking coffee out of a thimble is somewhat frustrating. The breakfast cup (and saucer) is small than a mug, so as far as I’m concerned mugs are the way to go at breakfast.

Then there is the coffee cup (and saucer) which is good sized but not as big as a mug or breakfast cup and is used for serving coffee at times other than breakfast and after dinner. We have coffee cups (and saucers) in our house but they have never been used. Just grab a mug.

The after dinner cup (and saucer) is smaller than a coffee cup but bigger than a demitasse cup. It was invented to allow etiquette experts to feel superior since no one else can figure out when to use them. If you were to guess that we don’t have any in our house, you’d be correct.

After a formal dinner, one should serve a low-caf or decaf coffee in a demitasse cup (and saucer). Demitasse is French for “so poor we couldn’t afford a real serving.”

The formal teacup (and saucer) is slightly shorter and wider than the formal coffee cup (and saucer). According to Official Etiquette, tea is too delicate to serve at a formal dinner and is only served at formal luncheons upon request. Clearly, I come from much less delicate stock because as far as I’m concerned (and I’m pretty sure a fair number of people will agree with me), tea can be served at any time. In a mug.

Mugs range in size from “good sized” to slightly smaller than a horse trough. Mugs are used only for informal dining—except in our house where we feel strongly about serving size.

Those are the seven kinds of cups. All the other kinds of cups you see apparently just don’t exist.

Now you know.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Sometimes blog inspiration arrives in a burst. Sometimes it arrives by carrier pigeon. Sometimes it doesn’t really arrive at all. And sometimes it arrives in the form of the word “magnanimous.”

Last night, when Pi and Tal got home, they (and by “they” I mean Pi) bellowed upstairs. “Hi, Mom!!! Tal and I were thinking that if you were feeling magnanimous, you might want to make us dessert.” “What kind of dessert?” “Whatever you feel like making.” “Be down in a minute.”

Tal asked, “What is this word ‘mag, maj, mananim’?”

Whereupon we set out to teach her the word “magnanimous” to much giggling. It’s a fun word to teach to someone who does not speak English as a first language. To her credit, she learned it really quickly.

Since I was feeling rather magnanimous, I decided to make bananas foster. My way, not the way it’s supposed to be made.

Here are both recipes for your edification.

Bananas Foster (version Mom and version Alton Brown)

Before I continue, let me point out that I think Alton Brown is the Chief Chef, the cherry on the sundae, the Most Amazing Food Person In Our Time. So obviously his version is Right. My version is just what gets made in our house.

Let me also point out that Minions Love Bananas. And doesn’t that just make my little heart happy?

Alton: Melt 2 tablespoons unsalted butter in a 10-inch heavy skillet over low heat.

Mom: Find non-stick pan. Move the drying pots off the stove so there is room to work. Turn up the heat to Reasonably High and melt a bunch of vegan butter (what with Pi not doing cow at the moment). Encourage the vegan butter to get on with melting. Put a tortilla in the pan to brown on both sides. Decide you’re not going to wait for any of this browning nonsense and settle for warming it up. Remove warm, buttery tortilla to a plate. Add more butter stuff to melt.

Alton: Add 1/4 cup dark brown sugar, 1/4 teaspoon ground allspice, and 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg and stir until sugar dissolves.

Mom: Add about-that-much brown sugar and stir. After reading Alton’s recipe (we’re good friends, so I can call him by his first name) decide cinnamon, allspice, and nutmeg might be a good addition next time. Laugh mightily at the idea of grinding fresh nutmeg.

Alton: Add 1 tablespoon banana liqueur and bring sauce to simmer. Add 2 under ripe bananas, sliced in half lengthwise and cook for 1 minute on each side, carefully spooning sauce over bananas as they are cooking.

Mom: Trip over the puppy trying to get the bananas. Giggle as puppy looks expectantly at the bananas. Giggle harder as puppy stares hard enough at the bananas to get them to jump out of their skins voluntarily. Peel and slice bananas into rounds (“coins” as Dad calls them). Share 2 pieces with a grateful dog. Put the bananas in the pan and stir. Laugh at the notion of being careful while doing this.

Alton: Remove bananas from pan to a serving dish. Bring sauce to a simmer and carefully add 1/4 cup dark rum. If the sauce is very hot, the alcohol will flame on its own. If not, using stick flame, carefully ignite and continue cooking until flame dies out, approximately 1 to 2 minutes. If sauce is too thin, cook for 1 to 2 minutes until it is syrupy in consistency. Add 1/2 teaspoon finely grated orange zest and stir to combine. Immediately spoon the sauce over bananas and serve. Serve with waffles, crepes, or ice cream.

Mom: Spoon most of the banana/brown sugar yumminess over half the tortilla. Fold tortilla over and spoon the rest on top. Cut in half if you are serving to two people (which you would only do if you don’t have enough ingredients to make two whole servings. Which reminds me, we need to get more tortillas, bananas, and brown sugar.).

NOTE: If you are me, do not even consider the whole “light on fire” thing since it would doubtless turn into a “light the entire kitchen on fire” thing. And while we do have a fire extinguisher (never used, I’m glad to point out), I don’t think foam is a good addition to this particular dessert.

Serve to incredibly happy teenagers.

Hope you have a sweet day, kiddo.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

So you know about date-rape and assault on women on college campuses, right? I know you’ve heard the “no means no” lecture. And you’ve probably heard the new “yes means yes” affirmative stance (you actually have to hear a “yes” for it to mean “yes.” Silence isn’t consent.).

But have you heard about the nail polish?

My original title for this post was From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. The Jury’s Still Out On This One (extra points if you get the reference) because I don’t yet know what I think about it.

Here’s the story.

Four undergrads at North Carolina State University (three cheers for the undergrads) have created a nail polish that changes color to indicate the presence of date rape drugs (Rohypnol, Xanax, and GammaHydroxybutyric Acid). I did not know how to spell any of those before starting this blog. But that’s not the point. The point is, you get a mani with “Undercover Colors” polish, coyly stir your drink with your finger (or your toe if you got a pedi), and voila! you know whether or not your drink contains ingredients you haven’t ordered.

Ingenious? Absolutely. Controversial? You betcha.

On the plus side it’s a mighty fine piece of innovation and engineering which we should applaud 100%. Did I mention they are undergrads? Quite impressive.

Unlike some of the other gimmicky things that are on the market, it’s tough to be without your digits (if you’ve misplaced your fingers, date rape probably isn’t your biggest problem of the evening).

And it’s pretty clear (to me) that ANYTHING that might prevent even one incident is a good thing.

On the “not so much” side, people are pointing out that new-fangled drugs aren’t used all that frequently in date-rape situations. When there are substance issues, the substance in question is generally alcohol.

Mostly, critics seem concerned that nail polish (of any type) doesn’t really address the issue. Some say it doesn’t really make women safer, it just fools them into thinking they are safer. Certainly, it doesn’t teach students about risky behaviors. It doesn’t substitute for taking actions on our campuses to make all our kids safe (from assault and from accusation) and it doesn’t take the place of having difficult conversations.

As you think about this, it might not seem entirely relevant (what with you being a boy and a Most Good Boy at that). But think about this: would you want your sister wearing Undercover Colors nail polish? Your best friend? Your date? Your daughter?

It gets a little tricky, doesn’t it?

October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month (more about that in a week or two). My wish for you today is that you can always think about this in the abstract without ever knowing anyone who has faced domestic or campus violence. The statistics say I’m unlikely to get my wish, but I keep hoping.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Listen my child and you shall hear
Of a meal we ate when you weren’t here.

I thought of writing the whole blog in poem, but by the third line of my attempt I’d gone from Paul Revere’s Ride to A Visit From St. Nicholas (Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!) and the scan had gotten hopelessly mixed up in my head. Back to narrative.

Last night we went out to dinner. Turns out you need to make reservations more than 20 minutes in advance if you want to take 6 people to dinner on a Saturday night at a trendy spot. We went to Bonefish Grill (which I like very much but I’d been to before and I’d hoped to try one of the new restaurants in town. Apparently so did a lot of other people.).

Puppy: You didn’t take me
Me: You had dinner at home
Puppy: I could have eaten if you’d taken me
Me: You were napping
Puppy: Only after you left me at home!
Me: (I am not going to mention they don’t let dogs in. I am not going to mention they don’t let dogs in. I am not going) Want to play with a toy?
Puppy: I love toys!

I had planned to take photos of dinner and share our culinary experience that way. It was a perfect plan except for the part about me remembering to take photos which I forgot. Completely.

So imagine, if you will, hummus and potsticker appetizers, delightful salads (for some of us), warm bread, delicious entrees, and sparkling conversation. I wouldn’t have known how to photograph the sparkling conversation anyway.

Puppy: Do I have sparkling conversation?
Me: ummm…
Puppy: Scratch me
Me: Yup, that sparkles
Puppy: See? You should have taken me

All in all, a lovely evening.

Puppy: Except for the part about me not going.
Me: I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it was still a lovely evening.
Puppy: Except for the part about me not going.

Except (according to some) for the part about Booker not going.

Hope your day is sparkling.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

You’d think we (and by “we” I mean human beings in general) would learn.

Well, you might think that.

And to a small extent you’d be correct. Hopefully, you are learning a great deal (see my thoughts on college students studying if you’re not clear about what I’m implying).

But as a species, we really aren’t that bright.

We’re smarter than most mud, but only barely as the Darwin Awards so beautifully illustrate every year.

Evolution is slow. Cars are fast. It’s not necessarily a good combination.

September 10, 1897, a London taxi driver with the generic sounding name George Smith was drinking. My Friend The Internet (in the one article I so thoroughly researched) did not specify what he was drinking, so I’ll assume he stopped by the pub for a quick pint with his buddies. As so often happens, one thing led to another, in this case “one thing” being a pint and “another” being another pint (or 12).

George then thought it would be a brilliant idea to drive off. In point of fact, he did drive off—right off the road and into a building. This marked the first time someone was arrested for drunk driving.

It did not mark the last.

The first device to measure drunken-ness was Mrs. P.J. Zonker of Roanoke, Virginia. Mrs. Zonker could tell at 1,000 paces if Mr. P.J. Zonker had even been thinking about drinking. Mrs. P.J. Zonker came from a long line of women who were able to identify a whole raft of impure thoughts and breaths. But since Mrs. P.J. was the first to write about it in her diary, she’s the one who gets the credit.

Some amount of time later (and by “some amount of time” I mean in 1936), Dr. Rolla Harger invented the Drunkometer (I kid you not) which was the forerunner of the Breathalyzer (which Harger later co-invented). The way a Breathalyzer works is by measuring the alcohol vapors in a person’s breath which is an indication of the amount of alcohol in their blood. Too much alcohol and the Breathalyzer bings! Once it bings! a series of events occurs starting with handcuffs and ending with jail time, a suspended license, and the insurance companies rubbing their GLPs (greedy little paws) together in glee. This is NOTHING compared to what your parents will do.

Do not drink and drive. Do not drink and even think of driving. Do not breathe and think of getting in a car with a driver who has been drinking anything stronger than apple juice.

Love, Mom