“Play it through to the end and…repeat.”

by Julianna Squicciarini

As of the beginning of January 2010, I have been teaching piano for four years. It’s amazing how time flies! I like to say the starting to teach piano was the best decision I never made. Meaning, my mom got me my first official student, and just told some random mom (whom I don’t think I had ever met!) that I would teach her daughter. I was horrified when my mom told me about it later that day. “WHAT!?! You just TOLD her I’d teach her daughter?!?!?” I started hyperventilating. “Yes, honey,” my mom said seriously. “I think this would be a good thing to do with your time.”

And, of course, she was absolutely right. Through the years, I can only hope I’ve gotten better; I certainly feel more experienced. Right now, I have thirteen students, whom I teach on Mondays and Wednesdays. I thought I’d give you all a glimpse of a day at the piano with them. They each of their lovable/funny/irritating-in-a-constructive-way quirks. So here you go:

• Kristina is my first student of every week. She’s really, really, really quiet. She has the biggest true-blue eyes I’ve ever seen, and looks like a ballet dancer. She’s turning 10 tomorrow. I’ve taught her for two or three years now, and we’ve built up to at least one- to two-word responses to all my questions. But you should see that smile when I make a joke…
• Elizabeth is taller than me, and wears bright red lipstick. She’s fourteen, turning fifteen this year, I think. She has an intriguing habit of finishing my sentences with me. It makes me smile, because no one ever does that to me. We also figured out together, a few weeks ago, that she has exceptionally short thumbs, which makes it hard to reach for some of those chords, as you can imagine.
• Then there’s Katy. Katy was my first student. She has been with me for all four years, and I’ve watched her grow up, practically. I always get the impression that she really just wants to chat. Which would be totally fine with me – talking is always easier than teaching – but I don’t think her parents would be very happy with me…but I do love to spend two or three minutes getting “the scoop” about her, her family, and her relatives. Goodness, I even know the full given names of her nieces!
• Sarah is tall and thin, and every time I see her, I think of skiing. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because she comes in leggings and snow boots a lot. She has long, thin fingers, and always plays with what seems like “all her might”. I love that, because it makes me feel like she wants to do her best, whatever it takes. She also apologizes when she plays a wrong note, which makes me want to laugh.
• Her sister, Stephanie, is shorter and has blonde hair and braces. She just got the braces recently, and I don’t think she was happy about them. She’s really cute, and I expend all kinds of energy trying to get her to laugh. She has an excellent sense of timing, and a strong left hand. Whenever I am explaining what I want her to do for the rest of the week, she always nods seriously at me, no smile, and looks past my left ear. But every week, she comes back sounding better and better, so I guess she’s listening!
• Abby is the oldest in her family. And you can tell, too, because toward the beginning of our times together, I always felt like she wanted to be the boss. I remember her once asking me not to correct her. I looked at her and said, “But Abby, that’s my job. If I don’t correct you, you won’t know you did it wrong.” She brings me tiny gifts that make me smile – once she even brought me a single tea bag of her favorite tea. I was so touched.
• Sallie, my final Monday student, is short, with warm brown eyes and a slightly Spanish look. In fact, she reminds me of Antonio Banderas – but cute. She has a voice that’s all hoars and crackly all the time. It’s very endearing. PLUS – and this is a biggy – she practices. For real! She picked a classical piece way over her level, and has just finished learning it. Girl after my own heart.
• On Wednesdays, Abby is usually my first student. Different Abby from the one on Monday. She has dimples, like me, and a way of telling stories with raised eyebrows and really wide eyes, as if she can’t even believe it herself.
• Hannah, her sister, is two years older and very matter-of-fact. For some reason, she always rings the doorbell, even though her sister has just walked out, the door is very much unlocked, and she knows I’m standing inside waiting on her. What always makes me smile when she comes is that she uses the word “click” instead of “press”. As in, “Oh yeah, I accidentally clicked the F instead of the G.” It’s hilarious.
• The coup de grace, or piece de resistance of my teaching is Mary. She’s my oldest student, thin, beautiful, with naturally curly, thick, blonde hair. She’s very fashion-conscious. Having taken for several years now, she is my most advanced student, and therefore the most fun to teach. She whines a little about what I make her do (like how about that time I made her play her recital piece with hands switched – right hand playing the left hand notes, and vice versa??), but always with a smile and fun. Today, we were running out of time, and I wanted to hear her technical piece, Clouds. She hates that song with a purple passion, and wanted to play her Chopin – Prelude in E Minor. “You probably didn’t know this, Julianna, but Chopin *loved* clouds,” she said. “In fact, “prelude” actually means “clouds” in German.” I was laughing so hard, I gave in and we listened to the Prelude instead. At other times, I’ll tell her to do something, and she’ll slump forward and wail, “But Julianna! That’s *impossible*!” I look down at her. “Mary. It IS possible. You can do it, and you will,” I say sternly.
  She’s really too smart for her own good. Must be because she’s my sister.
• Emma has the most beautiful gray-green eyes. They are striking, especially with her light skin, freckles, and very dark brown hair. She’s been taking from me for a while. She reminds me so much of myself, of what I was like when I was first starting to take piano. She tries to play very accurately, almost mechanically. Very much like me. Once, the piano tuner came right when her lesson was supposed to begin, due to poor planning on our part. So we walked out, through the snow, to Peter’s studio in our backyard. It was freezing, and our teeth were almost chattering, but we got through the entire lesson on one of his keyboards, laughing about amusement parks and rollercoasters the whole time. It’s one of my most adventurously favorite memories with a student.
• Her brother Ethan started with me in 2008. Having a brother and sister like that reminds me even more of myself – and Peter. Ethan is so naturally talented when it comes to music and the piano, I can tell he doesn’t really bother to practice. Much like Peter. Somehow, though, he manages to progress. He plays those chatting tricks: I open the book, point to the next piece, which he’s supposed to have been practicing for the last week, he puts his hands on the keys, all ready to play, and then he’ll turn, put his hands down, and start talking about what really exciting thing they did on Saturday. It’s funny only because I can see right through it – I used to do that, too.
• Finally, just as I’m starting to fade, my last student arrives. Payton. He has blonde/brown hair and golden brown eyes. His voice sounds like it’s coming from the very back of his throat, and almost like he’s trying to keep it lower than it actually is. He tells me things to shock and horrify me, on purpose! It makes me laugh. But when it comes to the piano, he does very well. He does his homework. If he’s halfway through a line, and he makes a mistake, he stops and goes back to the beginning to try it again. “It has to be perfect,” he says. Gotta love a ten-year-old perfectionist.

And that’s it! By Wednesday night, I’m ready to be done teaching. But I really do love each of students. On a case-by-case basis, that is.

 

20:20 Hindsight

by Julianna Squicciarini

2009 is finished. Wow. Did anyone see it blow by? Did anyone hear it screech past as it disappeared around the bend and 2010 arrived?

I didn’t.

The end of December always starts me thinking about what the past year was like. What I remember most. What I did with all that time. Because if you think about it, a year is 12 whole months – 52 long weeks – 365 days – 8,760 hours – 525,600 minutes. That’s a long time. I start thinking things like, “Did I use my time wisely? I’m never going to get this year back; it’s never going to be 2009 again.” It’s not depressing, unless I did, in fact, waste all kinds of precious moments.

So here’s what I came up with:

• This year, my car failed on me for the first time ever. I was driving home with Morgan from our very last horseback riding lesson down in Waxhaw, when…wait a second…this all sounds familiar…oh yes – that’s because Morgan already wrote the whole thing up. You can read all about it here.
• This year, I watched the Superbowl for the first time ever! When you get up off the floor, read all about it here.
• This year, I got texting on my cellphone. <pause> This could be seen as a good thing, or a bad thing. In some ways, it makes it so much easier to communicate with my friends and family; in others, it is exceptionally easy to abuse the privilege and text too much. Guidelines had to be set and reset by The Powers That Be, but I think I’m doing ok now, walking the straight-and-narrow.
• This year, I went to a good handful of concerts. I saw William Joseph, Straight No Chaser, Steve Lippia, and the Trans-Siberian Orchestra all in person. What’s more, I thoroughly enjoyed all of those concerts, and don’t regret spending a single penny. THAT is most important.
• This year, I did a lot of traveling. I went every direction. I went 100 miles south, 250 miles southwest, 150 miles west, 1200 miles northwest, 400 miles northeast, 180 miles east, and 190 miles southeast. I visited Ocean Isle NC, Columbia SC, Fort Mill SC (finished out the year there!), Rock Hill SC, York SC (pretty much once a week!), Atlanta GA, Asheville NC (many times!), Lake Lure NC, Raleigh NC, Bristol VA (twice!), Hudson WI (full series here, here, here, here, and here), and Washington DC. If you’ll notice, that means I got to visit the capital of my state, as well as the capital of our country, both in the same year. I now know that I enjoy being in other places, but I don’t especially like to travel. Being in a town I’ve never seen, walking streets I don’t comprehend (has anyone ever thought of *fixing* Washington DC??), and seeing famous sites are magnificent; I just don’t really like the process of getting there – usually a long car drive. But hey – can’t win ‘em all. I’m certainly not complaining! I can’t believe how many places I’ve been!
• This year, I turned 20. I left forever behind the “teen” years. That realization was bittersweet; mostly sweet, with a little sadness, as the thought hit me. Time, in the long run, really does fly by. If we are just looking at hours of the day and minutes passing, time seems to crawl. But looking back now, I can’t believe my teen years have ended. I guess I should start acting like an adult…
• This year, I went to Carowinds for the first time ever (read all about it here). In fact, I went twice. That was fun, and something I can’t even believe I did.
• This year, I finished off a year at the USO. Morgan and I were very excited about having volunteered there for a year, and the Washington, DC trip was a pseudo-reward for that. We each got certificates; mine says I worked 92.25 hours there, in their fiscal year. I know it’s not exactly right, but it’s got to be close. That’s pretty cool. Here’s to another fantastic year at the CLT Airport! <raises glass>
• This year, I decided to go skydiving for my 21st birthday. And for those of you who don’t believe I’ll really jump, or think I’m going to freak out and start screaming, try me. Come see for yourself – I’m ready to do this.
• This year, I participated in the Light the Night fight against leukemia and lymphoma. The five of us Squicciarini “kids” signed up to help out and walk the 2-mile walk up in Southpark in October. Only one of us was too sick to attend the actual walk in the arctic temperature. <sheepish smirk> But at least I wrote the post telling everyone about it!
• This year, I attended a black-tie event for the first time in my life. I bought a great dress and uncomfortable heels, and enjoyed myself immensely. I’m thinking about returning for the 2010 gala.
• This year, I was the official accompanist for one of the homeschool choirs in our area. It was fun, it was hard work, it was stressful, and it was a great use of my spare time. I enjoyed it like even I didn’t know I would, and I am continuing to accompany them here in the new year.
• This year, I celebrated the end of the year at a party at our friends’ house,* with my family, rather than sitting quietly in our own living room, sipping bubbly cider. It’s the first time we’ve ever been invited to a New Year’s Eve Party, and remembering the excellent time had by all, I can only hope it won’t be the last.

All in all, I am pretty happy with 2009. There are some changes I would make, there are some resolutions I’ve made for this year. But there’s no use crying over spilled milk – although I may have done things differently, I can’t change the past, so I’m going to smile at the future.

To the new year, readers! Tempus fugit! Let’s use our time wisely this year, shall we?

*Bartoast, Inc.

 

To: You, From: Me

The best gift directly counteracts our innate selfishness, making it more difficult to give. A gift which requires no sacrifice may be appreciated by the recipient but is virtually meaningless to the giver. Swiping a credit card is often the most effort people put into giving a gift, resulting in purely material value which lacks emotional input. The best gift might be one you are strongly tempted to keep for yourself. It might come with a high price tag. It might be one you are sentimentally attached to. The best gift is given with enthusiasm, with love, with generosity – and surprisingly, with an infinitesimal amount of pain.

 

Over the river and through the woods

Two weeks age the Squicciarini girls, myself included, took our annual trip to Bristol, Virginia (or Bristol, Tennessee depending on which way the wind is blowing). As we prepared to drive up there, people would ask, “oh, what are you going to do there?” as if the answer might be “skiing!” or “hiking the Virginia Creeper Trail!” or “a 3-day detox!” but in fact the correct answer was “NOTHING!” <grin> Realistically speaking, everyone wants to spend a weekend in December getting away from holiday crowds and stress.

The best part about Bristol is not feeling guilty about doing nothing. Not meaning to imply at all that we would feel guilty about doing something… but the chance to do nothing, or if not nothing, frivolous activities for which we never have time at home, like reading or crossword puzzles, is nothing short of thrilling. Interestingly, I came with my laptop, as a responsible employee would, prepared to stay on top of the business situation…and then realized we didn’t have wifi. (Yay!)

We spend most of our time in the living room (the great room, as my grandparents say), curled up on the comfortable oversized furniture staring at a framed scribble above the fireplace which is in fact artwork created by Salvador Dali. Once or twice we venture into town, taking in our surroundings and supporting the local economy in our own small way.

The culinary highlight of our trip was Friday evening, when we whipped up a small square baked ziti topped with parmesan cheese and cracked pepper, accompanied by sparkling pomegranate juice in tiny glasses. Another evening we made individual omelettes stuffed with vegetables and cheese… food seems to taste better up there. I think it’s the mountain air. <wink>

We went to sleep Friday night and woke up a few hours later to find that it had started snowing… by Saturday midmorning the world was white and producing the unnatural brightness which comes from snow everywhere. Mary and I took a frosty walk down to the clubhouse and caught snowflakes on our tongues. Unfortunately we did not make snow angels. I’m ashamed to admit I’ve never done that (YET), probably because the idea of getting completely cold and wet is entirely unappealing. But it’ll happen one day… <grin>

We did not write another Ode to Bristol, but we reread the one from last year and laughed about those memories. I love Bristol. Bristol reminds me of how much I love spending time with my sisters. Especially in cozy mountain houses. =)

 

The Ghost of Christmas Past: Part IV

by Julianna Squicciarini

If we’re on the subject of ghosts, it is surely time to pull a skeleton from the closet. <cackle>

The holiday season of 2007 was rapidly approaching. The temperature was dropping, we were all hoping for snow, the smell of cookies was perpetually in the air…you know. Our mother pulled out the recipe books and we started drooling over the special recipes we only make around Christmas. One of them is our family-famous Peppermint Bark. Have you ever had Williams-Sonoma’s amazing Peppermint Bark? It is so good. Horribly overpriced, but…so, SO good. Ever since we’d tasted their bark, my mom had been trying to recreate it here at home.

Difficult task.

She tried all sorts of things – various brands of chocolate, flavorings, and techniques. And at long last, she figured out how to make a Peppermint Bark to rival even Williams-Sonoma’s. For *much less*, I might add.

So there we were, in 2007, eating Peppermint Bark. And one of us – probably Christine, but I really don’t remember – came up with the idea to peddle it around town. Knock on people’s doors and ask if they want to buy some. Like the Girl Scouts.

Morgan, Christine, and I decided to embark upon this project. We were very official. We had planning meetings. I was the treasurer, and I kept a detailed spreadsheet of how much this was costing us, and how much each box needed to bring in to give us a profit. Here’s the slightly humorous part of the story: you know how when the little 5- and 6-year-olds knock on your door and ask, “Do you want to buy some Chwissmas cookies?”, you just can’t say no? They grab hold of your heartstrings with their big blue eyes and cute little smiles, and you capitulate without really even knowing what you’re doing? Unfortunately, three “teenagers” aren’t going to get the same reaction. If WE knock on the door – no matter how eloquently we ask if you want to purchase Peppermint Bark – you’ll hear, “Hey, do you want to, like, buy some of this stuff? <bored, blank expression>” So we came up with a fix: we each knit (or crocheted) red-and-white striped stocking caps to make us look younger!! We wore flats, to look shorter – another key to looking younger – and we dressed in jeans and sweaters. Nothing stylish. Kids aren’t stylish.

This, by the way, was a first experience for us. We have never gone door-to-door for any reason whatsoever, especially selling things. When we went on our first round, I was so nervous. I almost backed out of the whole idea as we rang the first bell. But it wasn’t so bad…we sold a total of three boxes that first night. It was pitch black, and I don’t think people wanted to open their doors to strangers, no matter how cute our hats were.

Three days later, we went out again. This time? NOTHING. We sold zero boxes. I was in a state of emotional confusion. The rejection rate is so high! I’ve never had to deal with it before! I know – that sounds so sheltered. I am. But still – this was horrifying.

When people asked why, we couldn’t say we were raising money for our school, which was too bad. People are always willing to give money to help schools. Since we planned to keep every penny for ourselves, we had to come up with a different reason. Like I said – we had planning meetings. During one of those meetings, we came up with a pat answer: “We’re raising money to buy Christmas presents for our family.” Oh boy. Did THAT ever work. People were positively *charmed* with the idea.
Don’t misunderstand: that was the reason. It just took us a while to figure out that it really was. We’re not con artists.

Suffice it to say that over the month of December, we continued to go out door-to-door and sell Peppermint Bark. We sold a good many. But it was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life, with few exceptions. After we got back from the last round, the night of December 23, having sold no boxes at all (people weren’t buying the Christmas present reason anymore – it was a little late for that), I was saying that I never wanted to do anything like that again.

And I never have.

Yet.

So thus ends what may have become a Christmas tradition. When I found my hat the following year, I very nearly burned it. But I relented, and gave it to Goodwill instead.

 

A Pig in a Poke

by Julianna Squicciarini

We seem to have recently started revisiting eBay. We’ve never been the online-auction type, but with Christine’s relentless search for a car, we have been checking out Carrera and Fiat prices on the worldwide web much more often. Christine also just purchase some type of sweater for a pittance. Hope it fits.

It brings to mind a funny story:

My father officially started his own business – Quo Vadis LLC – several years ago. Toward the beginning of this venture, he was looking for the best deals and most inexpensive quality merchandise. Hence, he was into the whole eBay scene. He is also a master at winning auctions. I don’t know how he does it, but I think he has won virtually every item on which he has ever bid. That’s right. Gotta watch out for ’squicciarini’ online.

I remember one particular time, he was buying a SCSI drive. If you are not tech enough to know what that is, don’t worry about it. It’s a computer part – that’s all you need to know to laugh. So he found one on eBay, checked out the seller, timed everything appropriately, bid on it, and won (of course). He PayPal’d the money over, and the seller shipped it off to us.

For young children – which we were, at the time – packages arriving at the house is always kind of a big deal. Not so much anymore, since it’s an everyday occurance now. But it was more exciting back then. So this box arrives, from some unknown person, and we know it’s the SCSI drive. My dad opened it up and there, inside, packed in pristine peanut perfection, is a Royal Albert teacup. Blue, white, and gold. My mom has one just like it. But…no SCSI drive.

Now, teacups are lovely and wonderful, but they won’t fit in a computer and make it run better. So my dad emailed the seller and said we had just received a teacup – and thanks very much, but that’s not what we paid for. The seller responded with lots of exclamation points and inaudible <gasps> and horrified capitals. It was almost funny. Naturally, the person who had won the teacup was probably finding a SCSI drive in their box at that moment.

So we shipped the teacup back, and all in good time, the SCSI drive arrived. It wasn’t half as exciting as a teacup. But it’s what we needed.

All’s well that ends well. Beware of the Internet. <wink>

 

Wisdom from my grandparents’ refrigerator…

Dangerous: What’s for dinner?
Safer: Can I help you with dinner?
Safest: Where would you like to go for dinner?
Ultra Safe: Here, have some wine.

Dangerous: Are you wearing that?
Safer: You sure look good in brown!
Safest: WOW! Look at you!
Ultra Safe: Here, have some wine.

Dangerous: What are you so worked up about?
Safer: Could we be overreacting?
Safest: Here’s my paycheck.
Ultra Safe: Here, have some wine.

Dangerous: Should you be eating that?
Safer: You know, there are a lot of apples left.
Safest: Can I get you a piece of chocolate with that?
Ultra Safe: Here, have some wine.

Dangerous: What did you DO all day?
Safer: I hope you didn’t over-do it today.
Safest: I’ve always loved you in that robe!
Ultra Safe: Here, have some wine.

 

The Ghost of Christmas Past: Part III

by Julianna Squicciarini

Our family has this saying: “Never trust the packaging!” What we mean, when we shout it to the person unwrapping a gift, is that even though the box may say J. Jill or Banana Republic, you’re safer believing it was a $4.00 find at Goodwill, rather than an ultra-expensive pair of BR pants or a pricy J. Jill skirt. That way, you won’t be disappointed when you pull out the scarf from Marshall’s or the earrings from Dillard’s.

Personally, I think it all started with the infamous Lord & Taylor box that was passed around our extended family, a new person being the recipient every occasion (Christmas, birthdays, anniversaries, etc.).

But speaking of packaging…want to hear something kind of funny? Our dad has always had this “thing” when it comes to wrapping. Sometimes he’ll buy gifts at the mall or something, and have the clerk wrap them for him. Works like a charm, and the gift always looks just so. But sometimes…he’ll do something crazy. A particular memory of mine is the coat. My dad bought my mom a big, black, down coat for Christmas one year. It was durable, from Eddie Bauer. He also went out on a limb and got her a pair of shoes. The shoes were not so memorable. I don’t even recall the shape or color. They could have been clogs, they could have been heels. Doesn’t matter, and obviously not important. Here’s where it gets great: are you listening? He took the shoes out of their shoebox and wrapped them in the big box in which the coat had originally come. Not that you would know that – it was just a big box. THEN, he took the coat, stuck it in a plastic shopping bag, and vacuum-packed it, until it fit into the shoebox. <gasp of amazement> This was my first experience with vacuum-packing, and I was enthralled. It was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. The coat shrunk down to nothingness and fit into the shoebox. <wow> So on Christmas morning, my mom opened this big box, only to find a whole bunch of tissue paper and a pair of shoes. I think she may have been slightly confused as to why my dad chose such a huge box, but she was happy with the shoes, so it didn’t matter. I could tell she suspected some sort of trick when she picked up the shoebox. It was a lot heavier than a shoebox should be, and plus, she had just opened a pair of shoes. So what could it be? She tore off the wrapping paper, and the top of the box came flying off, the plastic bag inflating with air and the coat spilling out onto her lap. Talk about presentation. We were all cheering with glee. It was absolutely amazing. And my mom was very, very happy.

My dad did something similar a few years later. My mom wanted a new umbrella, because hers was broken. My dad had gotten her a beautiful new watch…AND a new umbrella. My father is generosity personified. Anyway, what he did this time was wrap the new umbrella in some nondescript box or bag and hide it around the back of the tree. Then, he took the new watch and attached it in some ingenious way to the inside of the *OLD* umbrella. It closed just fine, and we wrapped it up and stuck it under the tree. On Christmas morning, my mom pulled her present out of the bag, only to find that it was her old umbrella! She looked confused and disappointed, and my dad reassured her by saying something about having fixed it, and that she should try opening it. She did, and there was her beautiful new watch, suspended from the umbrella aparatus. It was very cool.

The acorn does not fall far from the tree, apparently, because the rest of us have had some fun wrapping our packages, too. One year, Christine and I were giving a lot of joint gifts – like a sweatshirt from both of us to our dad. And the same for our brother. We vacuum-packed them each into cereal boxes. Imagine the look on our dad’s face when he tore off the wrapping paper and found our Optimum Fiber whatever-we-used-to-eat cereal box staring back at him! Epic.

Or how about the time Morgan filled a bag with operatic odds-and-ends, like a free CD and useless brochures and gave it to me for Christmas. I pulled the CD out, thought it looked cool – but cheap – and started to say thank you. It was only then that she chose to tell me that the two Turandot tickets she had bought me were subtly taped to the inside of the bag. Nice.

So, to sum things up – get out of your box!

 

The Ghost of Christmas Past: Part II

by Julianna Squicciarini

Another nostalgic Christmas memory that comes to mind around this season is our annual Christmas Eve luncheon.

It started several years ago. 2003, I believe. Our father has always been into doing things as a family, and with this mindset, we decided to go out for a lovely Christmas Eve lunch *as a family*. We chose the Waldhorn, in Pineville, for this momentous occasion. It’s a picturesque, German restaurant with excellent cuisine – if you’re into German food – and since it was Christmas Eve, they were playing beautiful German Christmas music. Stille Nacht and all that, you know?

This was such a pleasant experience – the restaurant was practically empty, because everyone and their brother was shopping – that we decided to make it an annual event. So the following year, we all looked forward to visiting the Waldhorn again.

We love getting dressed in our gorgeous sweaters and bundling up in soft scarves and gloves. We drove out to the Waldhorn, only to find that it was closed. Christmas Eve fell on a Monday in 2004, and the Waldhorn is closed on Mondays. <sigh> We had to choose another restaurant, much to our chagrin. Harper’s won out that year.

Christmas Eve 2005 rolled around, and we were doubly excited to get to go to the Waldhorn – we never eat there, regularly, so this Christmas Eve tradition makes it special and more meaningful. I think it makes the food taste better, too…

We arrived at the Waldhorn. And it was closed. For Christmas Eve. Apparently, they had decided to close for the semi-holiday, rather than stay open for the Squicciarini family to continue their tradition. <heavier sigh>

We had to drive off to another restaurant. AGAIN. Buca De Beppo got our business that year. Our mother and a few of my sisters did not care for it.

So, as it seemed our “Christmas Eve Luncheon at Waldhorn” tradition had been nipped unceremoniously and remorselessly in the bud, we had to tweak it ever so slightly. The next year, we had the oh-so-exciting plan to drive out to the Waldhorn, take a family picture there, and then go somewhere else. <GRIN> Why plan to eat there, when we know they’ll be closed?? So that’s exactly what we did. We drove to Waldhorn, snapped a great picture, and then went somewhere else. The exact location that year escapes my usually perfect memory…it must not have been memorable. Perhaps Olive Garden.

The following year, which was 2007, in case you wanted to keep track, we had everything planned: drive to the Waldhorn, take another family picture (those who know us well know us to be severely lacking in family photos), and then go to Brio for our lunch. At the last minute, however, the plan was suddenly vetoed by one of the Powers That Be, and we didn’t drive out to the Waldhorn after all. The logic behind that change of plans being, “Why drive to Southpark via Pineville??” We merely drove to Southpark, had our amazing lunch, and went home. I particularly remember our waiter, because he was very good. His name is Joe. You should request him, should you happen to eat at Brio sometime in the near future – mention our name. I, hating change, was slightly perturbed by this overturning of our beloved drive-to-Waldhorn-take-a-picture-eat-somewhere-else tradition. But the Brio memory was certainly lovely.

So much so, in fact, that we very nearly repeated it the following year. But the desire to try a new restaurant every year won out, and we chose Rippington’s, in Waxhaw, instead. Waldhorn did not figure into the plan, being entirely out of the way and in the wrong direction. My memory of this 2008 luncheon was that we were all dressed in our seasonal, holiday clothes – I remember in particular that I was wearing a favorite cashmere sweater – and it was about 69 degrees outside. The waiter was in shorts, for crying out loud! But the food and atmosphere were pleasant, and we enjoyed the family time, as always. We also got a family photo.

We have not yet discussed plans for this year’s Christmas Eve. Will a new restaurant be graced by our presence? Will we decide to skip it altogether? Will we do a repeat performance at Rippington’s or Brio? Who knows?

Stay tuned…

 

The Ghost of Christmas Past

by Julianna Squicciarini

As we enter the holiday season, memories of previous holiday seasons come to mind – some are sad, some are funny…but they’re all enjoyable, to a certain extent. And what are the holidays without memories to go along with them, right? So here I present “You’re a Failure: The Mystery of Fudge”. Enjoy!

Our family is one of the trusted keepers of our Aunt Thelma’s “No-Fail Fudge” recipe. I don’t know if it’s a secret recipe…but it should be, because it’s positively amazing. Smooth, silky texture, rich, chocolate-y flavor… <blissful sigh> and the best part is, it always works. Doesn’t matter if you’re not a chef. You can’t break it! It will never fail.

Until…

The holiday season of 2007 rolled around. We started picking out goodies to make, so that our pantry and refrigerator would be well-stocked for all those parties and casual holiday gatherings we wanted to have. Of course, fudge was an absolute necessity. We decided to whip up a quick batch for the weekend. And <whisper> it failed! The texture was all wrong! Very grainy and unable to hold together properly. Sure the taste was ok, but that’s not everything when it comes to fudge.

We knew there had to have been something we missed – maybe we burned the chocolate. Chocolate is very easy to burn. So we dumped that batch and tried again. And <shocked expression> IT FAILED AGAIN! The exact same problem happened. We couldn’t believe it. The no-fail fudge recipe failed?!! This is an impossibility.

We waited a week or so before trying again. Maybe we hadn’t followed the recipe correctly; maybe the weather was affecting the melting of the chocolate. Maybe we had burned it again! To make a very long, very tedious story short – every single time we made fudge that year, it failed miserably. We had to go fudge-less for the holidays in 2007. <dissolve into tears>

[Perhaps that was all for the better. ]

Since fudge is a very seasonal sweet in our house, we didn’t pull the recipe back out until the holiday season of 2008. Remembering the unaccountable failures of the previous year, we were meticulous about timing, following directions, etc. And <horror> it failed again. We couldn’t believe it. How could a recipe that had worked perfectly for so many years fail every time now? Was there some kind of statute of limitations on the No-Fail Fudge recipe? It only works until 2007??

Our mother was particularly bothered by this, as it made no logical sense whatsoever. She spent days trying to figure out what was going wrong.

And being the Iron Chef that she is, she solved the case.

Are you on the edge of your seat?

In preparation for the extensive baking our family does – especially during the holidays – we had been buying those super-sized bags of chocolate chips at Costco, and storing it in the freezer. When baking or cooking anything that used chocolate, the chips would go straight from the freezer to the bowl/pot. Because they were frozen, they have extra moisture content, resulting in the chocolate “seizing”, and becoming grainy. If you’ve ever tried melting chocolate in a bowl you just washed (and didn’t dry thoroughly), you’ll understand what that means – water and chocolate don’t mix. It simply cannot melt evenly and become silky smooth. Physics do not permit.

We bought a new bag of chips and stored it in our pantry. We then tried the infamous recipe one more time. And <awed whisper> it worked!! Worked like a charm. Thus, we had fudge for the 2008 holiday season.

And you can be assured that we will have plenty of fudge for the 2009 holiday season, as well. Feel free to join us for some.