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 mink coat for Christmas one year. It was beautiful, and to a little girl like me, I couldn’t touch it enough. So soft. So *real*. 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.

 

“Elusiveness”

by Mary Squicciarini

One of our friends recently finished reading The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Emmuska Orczy, and as this lesser-known classic is a Squicciarini family favorite, we seized the opportunity to have him over for a showing of the 1982 film starring Anthony Andrews, Jane Seymour, and Ian McKellen. The evening included delicious homemade pizza, and a chance for our guest to try ”oil and vinegar” with his pizza crust… <raises eyebrows>…   

We (mostly) resisted the temptation to quote any of Sir Percy’s witty repartee during the movie. It was a disappointment to our guest that the “pepper-snuff” moment of genius was not included in the film, but overall he agreed that the acting and dialogue are superior. It is an excellent story of daring and great character…

We kicked him out of the house at 10:00, and as the evening was a great success, we’re already looking forward to next time. <grin>

 

Capital Appreciation Part 1

It was a little over a week ago that Julianna and I left our house in the “small hours of the morning,” as they say, and headed north to the nation’s capital.

To say that we went to Washington DC for dinner is about like saying I’m going to have ‘lunch at the Kremlin’… a bit pretentious and self-important. But in truth we were there to attend the National Italian American Foundation’s (NIAF) 34th Annual East Coast Gala dinner, held at the Washington Hilton in Dupont Circle.

We drove merrily up through North Carolina to the Virginia border, and then made our way to Petersburg, a small town outside of Richmond. Petersburg has only two distinctive points: it is the location of a National Battlefield and it is the birthplace of a tiny, sparkly, Charlotte resident.

From Petersburg, it was only another 2 hours to Washington. We were minding our own business, driving unconcernedly down a white highway (funny how the road color changes in different areas. Like they say, we’re ‘famous for our mud’ down here in the South…), when an extremely large building appeared on the right, and we realized with shock that it was the Pentagon. Right there. On the side of the road. Shaped…like a pentagon. (Five sides!) I had never seen it “in the flesh”… (if a building can have flesh) …only in pictures.

We found our hotel, to sum up a long and convoluted drive up and down Connecticut Avenue. Sidney Ellen Wade is not kidding about getting ’stuck on Dupont Circle,’ let me tell you! That place is a nightmare, unless you enjoy driving in a pretzel shape. The Circle itself is not very large, but to drive all the way around it once is enough time to walk into a very busy Starbucks, wait in line, order two cappuccinos, pick them up, and then get back to the street corner where you started. We tested and proved this theory Sunday morning. <grin>

I had been told the Metro system in DC was easy. Easy is not the word I would have used to describe it… at least initally, but then I am small and somewhat sheltered, admittedly. Thanks to Julianna, my confident, street-smart sister, we managed to get from Dupont Circle to the main Metro center and from there to the Capitol South station, where the US Capitol building is located. We strode down the longest hallway I’ve ever seen, heels clicking on the marble floor, passing by doors naming representatives from around the country, feeling like the Men in Black. Think about it – Julianna and I are in fact the ‘best kept secret in the galaxy.’ We live in secret, we exist in shadow… and we dress in black. <grin> This is, understandably, not the best analogy… but it attempts to express complete self-possession within impressive surroundings.

We made a grand entrance into Representative Sue Myrick’s office at precisely 1pm and were greeted with surprise by my helpful friend, Robert Moore. Apparently most people are late or get lost around the capitol building. Which would have been easy… the place is a maze of corridors.

Basically the only note of interest about our tour Friday afternoon is that we were actually in the House Sub Basement! Or basement, I don’t remember which. But if you read Dan Brown’s new book The Lost Symbol, which I don’t (officially) recommend, you would recognize this location as where all the cool action happens! Obviously Dan himself had been on this tour… probably crawling around the floor of the rotunda measuring distances, lying on his back staring up at the ‘Apotheosis of Washington’ with binoculars, poking around dark corners where he wasn’t supposed to be… It almost inspired me to pull out a notebook and jot down notes for a suspenseful political murder mystery of my own.

tbc…

 

Semicentennial

An excellent father, who can find? For his worth is far above a Browning Citori shotgun.
The heart of his wife trusts in him, and he will have no lack of gourmet home-cooked meals.
He does her good and not evil all the days of his life.
He looks for watches and pocket knives and keeps them in a box on his dresser with delight.
He is like merchant ships; he orders his siddurim from afar.
He rises also while it is still night; and gives support to his clients and tasks to his staff members.
He considers a MINI Cooper and buys it; with his earnings he takes us out for fried zucchini at Maggiano’s.
He girds himself with strength, and makes his coffee strong.
He senses that his gain is good, and his lamp goes out earlier every night.
He stretches out his hand to the target, and his hands grasp a firearm.
He extends his hand to the keyboard, and stretches out his fingers to the mouse.
He is not afraid of the winter for his household, for his household can always put on more clothes.
Banana Republic makes coverings for him; his clothing is fine linen and cashmere (with the warmth of wool, the draping qualities of silk, and the wearability of cotton).
His wife is known in the Caribou, when she sits among the knitters of the land.
He makes a product locator and sells it, and supplies kiosks to Barnes & Noble.
Transparency and consistency are his trademarks, and he smiles at a good glass of red wine.
He opens his mouth in righteousness, and the teaching of history is on his tongue every Tuesday night.
He looks well to the ways of his household and does not eat cookies, candy, or any kind of crunchy food.
His children rise up and bless him, his wife also and she praises him saying:
“Many teachers have done nobly, but you talk more than all of them.”
“Men are liars,” “Looks don’t matter,” and “Nothing good happens after midnight…”
but a man who trains up his children in the way they should go shall stay young at heart and be cared for in his old age.
Give him the fruit of his own fig tree, and may he see his children to the third and fourth generations.
Happy birthday, Dad. We love you!

 

26

by Julianna Squicciarini

For those of you who didn’t know, our parents celebrated their 26th anniversary earlier this month (the 8th, to be exact). To the average American children, parents’ anniversaries come and go with barely a second thought. Who cares, anyway? They got married – a long time ago – good for them. Right? But if you think about it seriously, you wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t. So this is an AWE-FILLED, STUPENDOUS, EARTH-SHATTERING event. Besides, as the years continue to add up, they join an ever-narrowing minority. Divorce is predominate in this country.

On that very serious note, we, the Squicciarini 5, put our heads together to figure out what to do in honor of our parents’ 26th anniversary. No – not to decide what to get them or what to do for them; our parents are the ultimate romantics. They do enough for each other. On top of which, they actually “kicked us out” of the house for that evening, so they could make dinner together and enjoy it in solitude. This was fine with us – we just needed a great plan to fill four to five hours.

We came up with a list of 26 things to do. This list was a great list. I mean, the creative juices that were poured into it would astonish even the artists among us. It included mundane things, like driving for 26 miles. It included more spicy things, like drinking 26 ounces of water. It included over-the-top things, like releasing 26 balloons from the top of the Ballantyne Village Theater. Are you laughing yet? On the edge of your seat, wondering what we did? Overwhelmed by the ideas? Good. Keep reading.

Obviously, we are ambitious. Set the bar high, or it won’t be any fun trying to reach for it. So yes, we tried for 26 twenty-sixes, and some we got – some we didn’t quite attain. But it’s the thought that counts, and it certainly felt like half of Charlotte knew it was our parents’ 26th anniversary by the time we arrived back at The Residence. Here’s what we did:

• We visited 8 places. I think 8 counts, because their anniversary falls on the 8th of October. <chuckle>
• Our first stop was the Allison home, because Mr. & Mrs. Allison also celebrated their 26th anniversary this year. Congratulations to them. While there, we stole Rachel and took her with us, to be our photographer. As a result, we have tons of excellent pictures to remember this day.
• We spent exactly $26 at the gas station, getting gas for this amazing drive all over Charlotte. Christine is surprisingly good at getting an exact amount at the gas station, and we have the picture to prove it.
• We definitely drove 26 miles.
• We interviewed people on their thoughts on marriage. Anniversaries are the perfect chance to do this. Our questions (each of us had one to ask) were things like, “Do you think age matters in a relationship?” and “What do you think is the biggest contributor to the ever-rising divorce rate in America?” I have to say, that last question is quite the tongue-twister if you’re trying not to look at the paper when you say it. Can you tell which one was mine?
• We traveled with a group of 26. Since we only invited one guest to join us on this adventure, I’m sure you’re wondering how we got that number.
• We. Took. 26. Group. Pictures. Are you impressed?
• We chose a word, near and dear to our hearts, and tried to use it in conversation – naturally – 26 times. We made it to 16 without looking too obvious. The word, just so you’re “in the know” was…<whisper> cucumber.
• We had our in-house senior technician cut us a CD of great songs to which we could rock out while doing all this driving. 26 tracks, of course.
• We gave 6 hugs. And no, they weren’t all to the same person.
• We made a Roundtable List of 26 words that describe our parents and their marriage. It was epic.
• We made 7 toasts, mostly to ourselves, our parents, and the day in general.
• We broke into 7 [loud] rounds of applause – in public.
• We drank 26 ounces of water.
• We were going to leave our waitress at 26-cent tip, but that seemed a little cheap. I take that back. It was ludicrous to even think about it. So we had our in-house senior technician figure out what $0.26 SQUARED would be. That still seemed cheap. So we did $0.26 CUBED, and it was perfect.
• We froze for 26 seconds every 26 minutes. ALL NIGHT. Do you know how cool that feels? The four of us who own cell phones all set alarms to go off sequentially, and when we heard them, we all immediately froze and started silently counting. It was incredible.
• We released 6 balloons from the top of the Ballantyne Village Theater parking deck. It was sunset, and the beautiful reddish-pink sky in the background made this event so much more special. We shouted, “HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!” and let them go, our hearts swelling with love for and gratitude toward our parents. <sigh> That was really the highlight of the evening.
• We went to The Cheesecake Factory and ordered the 26th cheesecake on their menu. It was Caramel Pecan Turtle, in case you were wondering. Very tasty.
• We stuck 26 tall, spindly, sparkly candles into that one piece of cheesecake, lit them, wished our parents a happy anniversary (again), and blew them out. We very nearly started a small bonfire in the restaurant. But we didn’t get in trouble. <sigh of relief>
• And – get this – we made a list of 26 things to do. HAHA!

Thus ends one of the most wonderful celebrations of our parents’ anniversary. We had such a fabulous time, and I feel like we did honor them, even though we didn’t get them a gift, or spend the evening with them, or anything like that.

We’re so proud of our parents! I know that sounds a little backwards…but it’s true, anyway! They’re an amazing couple, and their lives and marriage are a testimony to everyone around them. May all five of us follow their example!

P.S. – not counting the title or this sentence, bet you can’t guess how many times I used the number “26″ in this post…

 

Chattanooga: strange name, strange place

Things we learned from this trip:

• Traveling with a handgun proves easier than one would surmise, although ticket agents get visibly flustered when you pull the gun out and wave it around while demonstrating that it is unloaded.
• US Airways Express flights are down at Concourse E, three miles from the center of Charlotte Douglas International Airport.
• When flying in a plane which holds only 20 people, it’s necessary to walk out on the tarmac and be blown around by crosswinds before actually climbing into the plane.
• Baggage claim at the Chattanooga Metropolitan Airport is about the size of our kitchen.
• Fall Creek Falls State Park, two hours north of Chattanooga in the uncharted wilds of Tennessee, has no cell reception to speak of.
• That’s what wild turkeys look like…
• It’s basically impossible to get a decent cappuccino anywhere in the state of Tennessee. I conducted my own personal research to prove this fact. For goodness’ sake, a cup of overly sweet Swiss Miss with a spoonful of instant coffee is NOT a cappuccino and NEVER WILL BE. Do I make myself clear?

 

Banana Pancakes

It’s seldom that pancakes are made in a gluten-free house, but at long last, the greatly-anticipated “Banana Pancake Party” was had. We switched on the iPod and rocked out to Jack Johnson’s Banana Pancakes while we cooked. Can’t get better than that! The pancakes, accompanied by authentic bottles of Ginger Beer imported from New Zealand, were delicious; they paired very nicely. After the In Between Dreams album had played about twice through, we quickly cleaned up and headed upstairs for a late showing of The Holiday starring Jude Law, Cameron Diaz, Jack Black, and Kate Winslet. Great movie… Good times.

 

Unorthodoxy

We entertained an honored guest at The Residence Thursday evening… my esteemed grandfather was in town and he joined us for a delicious meal of seared flank steak and Julia Child’s cream of mushroom soup.

It’s quite an event having my grandfather over, one which happens infrequently since he does not live in Charlotte anymore. He makes a quiet entrance, occasionally while we are still trying to finish the work day, but his presence draws everyone like a magnet. His conversation is invariably fascinating. He has opinions on every subject under the sun, and we could listen to him talk for hours. Recently he has started telling stories from his high school days, which are always highly amusing.

Our time at the dinner table was quite comical. I don’t think we’ve laughed that much over dinner in months. My grandfather has highly unorthodox ideas about certain eventualities, both political and personal… which I am not, unfortunately, at liberty to share. His no-nonsense approach to life in general is entertaining, but at the same time often educational and thought-provoking.

Look for “It’s All About Me,” the greatly-anticipated autobiography of Henry F. Stelzl, coming to a bookstore near you in 2010.