IS THAT A SNOW PLOW, OR ARE WE AT WAR?

Christmas Day is over, the presents are unwrapped and all is quiet on the home front.

Just a few minutes ago Elizabeth and I heard a noise. A prolonged noise. Twice. It's either a snow plow, or we are at war. The fact that there is hardly a skiff of new snow has me wondering if the missiles have been deployed and we are headed into Armageddon.

And then I had the thought: If we are at war, and the missiles have been launched, and the radiation is sifting down, then I better eat all the Christmas candy now, instead of parcelling it out a bit at a time until the new year. Because, as soon as the clock strikes midnight on December 31st (or is it considered January 1st when the clock strikes midnight?) candy must not be consumed, in fact, if I have any in my mouth at that moment, I must spit it out.

Because there might not be a new year, it would be a shame to let all the fudge and little white cookies go to waste. The mutants in the future, sifting through our generation's rubble will come upon the fudge and little white cookies and say, "The people who lived here (and died before New Year's) worshipped fudge and little white cookies and kept them in sacred decorated tins." They will know they are sacred because one of them is a Mary Englebright tin and it says, "Peace." Of course the fudge filled one has a picture of Santa and a reindeer. I don't want them to think I worshipped fudge and little white cookies and Santa, so I guess I better eat the contents, so the mutants-of-the future will not make snarky comments about my religion.

DON'T EAT THE FUDGE

Elizabeth told me not to make any more fudge.

"Why not? I asked.

"Because I eat it."

SIX WORDS FOR PEANUT BUTTER FUDGE

Easy satisfying recipe, peanut butter delight.

THE PEANUT BUTTER FUDGE IS A HIT

When we were young marrieds with only one wonderful child--Kraut, Phil's mom sent us a box full of Christmas tins. Inside were wondrous treats. Russian teacakes, English toffee, sugared walnuts, Christmas cookies, fudge, and maybe divinity, neither one of us can remember for sure.

With each tin we opened our eyes got bigger. We couldn't imagine someone loving us so much that she must have worked hours and hours and hours and then spent bookoo's on postage. We foolishly didn't take pictures or probably didn't properly thank her, either. Only now, thirty-something years later do we appreciate the many ways she mothered.

I have always wanted to do the same kind of thing for my children so a couple of years ago I started. I only gave them tins with a few things, not the vast array that Phil's mom did. This year I decided they could choose three items: fudge, Russian Teacakes--hoping none of them would choose those--the time spent making Russian teacakes is astronomical, English toffee, Muddy Buddies, and a few other things, my brain--which has been loosened from all the coughing--is refusing to remember the list.

So, early on I tentatively asked Gilmore Girl.

"Little White Cookies. That's all I want, lots and lots of Little White Cookies," she said. We have always called them "Little White Cookies," because we are so darned clever.

"You're only getting the normal amount," I grumbled. "No one else is getting any. I just decided. They are too much work."

Then I mentioned to The Soap Queen that I wasn't making Russian Teacakes .

"Are those the 'little white cookies?'" she asked.

"Yes," I said, thinking that would be the end of the conversation.

"Oh," she said, with actual stars in her eyes. I swear, ACTUAL stars. "Those are the best."

And since I adore The Soap Queen I said, "Okay, I'll make them for you but no one else."

Then I talked to The Brown Dot. "Mmm," he said. "Are Russian Teacakes on the list?"

I put my head in my hands. "I don't think so," I said with a muffled voice.

"Because," he said, "those are my favorite and I DIDN'T GET EVEN ONE LAST YEAR?"

"From the whole tin?"

"Yes, not one! The greedy people that live at my house," he muttered under his breath.

Now, I know his kids and wife are not greedy people and he probably got his fair share but in his mind he got none so I sighed and said, "I'll make you Russian Teacakes."

I haven't even approached Lord Bumhampten and his charming wife Nurse Giggleswitch nor have I asked Her Excellency of Mousehole and The Boarder. Nor have I even started on Russian Teacakes because they are such a hands on cookie and a person who coughs twelve thousand times a day shouldn't be making them.

So, after great swigs of cough syrup and after long time perusing of the Internet in search of a recipe for Peanut Butter Fudge I attempted making that. It is verrrrry sweet but also pretty darn good. And I now have tins of this stashed in the cold garage awaiting delivery. It's easy. Can be made in ten minutes flat. I love something that can be made in ten minutes. Flat.

Gilmore Girl came in today to see if her bum toe needed to be to be "cranked" and she stopped by after her appointment to see if I was dead or should simply be shoveled in a hole and covered up with dirt to stop the coughing.

I wasn't dead. And I wouldn't tell her where the shovel was. Then I gave her a tin of peanut butter fudge to take home. "Don't even say the words 'little white cookies' to me," I said.

"But..." she said."

I gave her "the look" and she said no more. She's waiting until I cougheth no more and then she will say plenty. I know her.

So, to make a long story short...oh, wait, it's too late for that. Well, anyway, she took her peanut butter fudge home and her husband, The Mighty Hunter pronounced it good.

Recipe here.

DENTURE FUDGE

While we were at church a blizzard waltzed through town. Just before church ended the Bishop said, "The parking lot is really fun right now." Our bishop is young and slick roads are not a challenge but a fun ride at the amusement park. It doesn't hurt that he works in construction and drives a truck that could climb cliffs while whistling "Climb Every Mountain," in a monster-truck-whistling sort of way.

We worried that Bentley and Tricia wouldn't come back down but they scoff at slick roads and came anyway. Optimistic youth was everywhere today.

The rest of the kids that weren't here for Christmas came for leftovers and Cindy's Fabulous Spaghetti. We ate and unwrapped gifts, laughed and watched the kids play with their new toys and then we went back into the kitchen around the table. I brought the fudge, caramels and muddy buddies out.

Bentley and Sharee were deep into a discussion about which bike pedals are best, which shoes have the best gripping ability or some such thing. When you get those two biking people going its hard to keep up. Especially since I'm not a biking person and the thought of riding down the street on tires the size of linguine noodles makes me nauseous.

I was washing pans and loading the dishwasher when Tricia and Taylor--who were grouped, along with every single child, around the candy--erupted into laughter,"

Denture fudge," one of them snorted. "It's denture fudge."

"Denture fudge?" one of the kids asked.

"Absolutely! Look at this?"

I had made caramels with almonds at one point of the holiday preparations but they were too large so I dipped them in chocolate and cut them in half. The almonds, sliced in the middle looked just like teeth. Teeth embedded in caramel with chocolate lips. They held the offending candy up for everyone to see. The kids thought it was pretty funny too and their laughter added to the merriment in the kitchen.

Bentley and Sharee talked on, about spokes and camelbaks and bike gears, never noticing the silliness going on at the other end of the table.

Tricia and Taylor got more wound up, deciding how to market the denture fudge and what to add to next year's product line. Each suggestion burst forth with a new round of laughter. How I wish I had recorded all their nonsense. I could have sold it to hospitals with depression clinics. People would be cured after one session of listening to denture fudge laughter. I could market the CD with tins full of chocolate covered caramels with almonds. Two for one. Laughter-therapy and treats. It would be a hit, I'm sure of it. I could be rich. The world would be better off, sad people would be cured and back in the work force. The economy would boom.

It's my fault that we won't have a booming economy next year. If I had just recorded that denture fudge laughter...

THE LIST FOR MY ORGANIZED, WONDERFUL DAY...AND WHAT REALLY HAPPENED

Last night I decided to make a list for today so I would be organized and productive.

8:00 AM--wake up and do all the morning routine and then...

1. Clean the kitchen. Completely.

2. Finish funny, charming story for Personal History group

3. Buy one of the books Elizabeth wants at Borders

4. Browse Borders for 15 minutes only, don't buy anything else

5. Come home--to a clean kitchen. Yay! Make Russian Teacakes

6. Make fudge and Muddy Buddies

7. Pack teacakes, fudge and Muddy Buddies in tins and box everything for mailing to Aunt Dorothy

8. Go to Personal History group, read funny, charming story

9. Come home to a clean kitchen, Yay! Mop kitchen floor

10. Wrap ten presents

11. Fix a delicious dinner for Phil. The table will be cleaned off because I have cleaned the kitchen and I can put the holiday candles down the middle. Light the candles and pretend we are young and romantic.

12. Do dishes and since the kitchen is clean it will take five minutes

13. Deliver 32 bags of caramels with Phil. Sing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," at each door. Make the last batch of caramels, wrap them in the morning and deliver the extra 10 gift bags tomorrow night.

14. Sit in the living room with Phil, listen to Christmas music. Drink hot chocolate. Eat two Russian Teacakes. Savor the romance.

WHAT REALLY HAPPENED:

1. At 8:30 Phil woke me up--I slept in. I had a worrying night and was awake a lot--he said my neighbor had called and she would pick me up in 25 minutes so we could go to the church and put labels on the Relief Society manuals for next year. I had forgotten we were going to the church to put labels on the manuals for next year.

2. Scrambled madly, called my neighbor and told her I'd drive myself because I was going to be late. Drove to church and put labels on the manuals.

3. Went to Borders but because I couldn't find the list of the books that Elizabeth said she wanted I bought a totally unknown book that she DIDN'T tell me about. The guy at the register said it was a great book and since he is an art student—going to a University in Portland in January—he's majoring in animation—he looked twelve-years-old so I figured he would be perfect for the job--I took his word for it.

4. Paid for three other items I wasn't planning on buying but because I had a 40% off coupon my bill was only twice as much as if I had paid full price for the book in the first place. So good of me to have a coupon and pay twice as much. Went to Color Me Mine to look at what I could make with the $20.00 in coupons I received FIVE STINKING YEARS AGO as a Christmas present. Prices have doubled in five years. My coupons are now worth about $10 at the 2002 prices. Grumbled and said I'd be back. Someday. (Not soon.)

5. Forgot to go to my personal history group. Also forgot to finish my story. This is the first time in over a year I have been unprepared. I went an hour late and listened to every one else's story--they were all funny and wonderful. I was not having a funny or wonderful day but I laughed because everyone else was having a funny and wonderful day and I loved their stories. Ate a delicious lunch that Sarah had prepared for us and felt guilty because I dashed out of the house without fixing anything for Phil.

6. Forgot to buy marshmallows while I was out so I can't make the fudge. Mutter and grumble.

7. Came home to a horrible kitchen and made the dough for Russian Teacakes in about twelve square inches of space because that’s all the space that was clean. Put the dough in the fridge to firm. Turned the oven to 400 degrees so it would be ready when the teacakes were firm.

8. Read blogs while waiting for the dough to firm and the oven to heat.

9. Stopped reading blogs when the smoke alarm went off. Removed the pan of flaming chicken grease—that was in the oven from last night after I broiled the chicken. Ran outside and threw the pan in the snow. Opened all the windows, brought the fan in out of the garage and turned it on full force to get rid of the smoke. Picked up two thousand papers off the floor that were on the un-cleaned counter in the un-cleaned kitchen when the fan hit them. Sprayed the kitchen with Oust and heard Phil call from the family room, "Something smells good, are you cooking dinner?"

10. Told him “NO!” and then I turned the oven off and told him now was as good a time as any to go and buy a new water heater because the old one is dying and it flooded the laundry room and bathroom on Saturday. There goes my Christmas present and his too. I have decided I want hot water for Christmas.

11. Stopped on the way home to buy marshmallows for the fudge. They were not on sale. Why didn’t I buy more than one package when they were 99 cents?

12. Bought TV dinners. Came home, heated them in the oven that smelled like broiled chicken. The oven probably shouldn’t be used to bake Russian Teacakes anytime in this century. Pushed 32 gift bags filled with caramels out of the way, pushed six empty tins waiting for Russian Teacakes and fudge and maybe Muddy Buddies out of the way. Pushed last weeks grocery ads and my positive affirmation cards out of the way, plus the box containing the Christmas candles and garland that is supposed to go down the middle of the table to encourage romance. Knocked the Christmas cards on the floor and kicked them under the table. Christmas cards unsent at this date are better off under the table.

13. Ate. I had Mexican and Phil had turkey. We pretended it was beautifully cooked and nutritious. I told him he should admire the clean kitchen, wonderfully decorated table and the fourteen candles, encouraging romance. He snorted. I wiped his cranberry sauce off the decorative tins, waiting to be filled. I threw the disposable dishes in the recycle bin. Phil went downstairs. I looked at the chaos in the kitchen and decided to make the caramels in the morning and put them in the garage so they will be firm enough to wrap in the afternoon. Will do the same with the fudge and the Russian teacakes. I have decided Muddy Buddies are overrated.

14. Asked Phil if he wanted to sit in the living room and have hot chocolate or deliver 32 gift bags of caramels and sing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," or if he just wanted to watch the news in the family room. He didn’t answer. I think he was asleep in the recliner. I ate the fudge that someone else brought to us for Christmas and decided to read blogs. I'll make tomorrow's list after tomorrow is finished. That way I can cross off everything on the list and be happy about it.