A gobble-gobble-gobble and a ho-ho-ho!

Christmas. I have mixed feelings about this holiday. OK, maybe they're not so mixed: basically, I see this day as entirely inferior to Thanksgiving. You know how sociologists talk about "white guilt"?-- as a Liberal Arts educated kiddo in Austin, I no doubt suffer from it-- well I'd like to talk right now about Thanksgiving guilt. I actually feel burdened by the fact that the rest of the world does not have Thanksgiving. It is positively troubling. We are endlessly fortunate to have one day a year that entails the following:

• Gluttonous food, heavily focused on carbs, fat, and sugar
• A guaranteed four-day weekend
• Copious amounts of alcohol
• Family, friends, and football (American)
• No stressful gifting

But anyhow, this is supposed to be a Christmas post...On the 23rd, PB and I had some friends over to his place for a traditional -English- Christmas dinner. I ate parsnips for the first time. Thumbs up. We made a trip to the Farmer's Market to get all the good vegetables, and of course some duck bacon for the roasted brussel sprouts (shout out again to the Kocurek Family Charcuterie!) Got a small turkey from a farm in Waco (via Whole Foods).

About the turkey: at Thanksgiving, my sister prepared the most heavenly turkey. Well, heavenly for us, not so much the bird. On second thought, maybe heavenly for the bird, assuming he was a good little guy. Anyhow, PB followed her recipe to the T and wow! Success! I was charged with roasting vegetables and making a goat cheese cake (with ginger snap pecan crust and lemon pumpkin topping-- not to brag or anything)

Anyway. The turkey had to bathe in brine for about 12 hours. We needed a very large bucket for this task. Between the two of us, we did not have a very large bucket. At least one *not* covered in paint. I was midway through cheesecake and just about to offer up a quick trip to Home Depot for a new bucket, when I looked over and there was PB: removing the vegetable crisper drawer from his fridge. For reasons unbeknown-st to me, the glass top has always been missing from that section of his fridge. Without blinking, he triumphantly declared he would simply put the brine and turkey in the drawer and return it to the refrigerator. It was one of those moments in the relationship when you think to yourself, "Wait a second. This is my boyfriend, right?" I watched with relative horror as in went a 9 pound turkey, a gallon of ice water, and a gallon of salty brine, with the greatest, most ginger of care (of course).

...But then again, we all have our "things." We clip our nails in the bathtub. We wear the same socks for eight days straight. We drink our milk over ice. We know every word to Big Trouble in Little China. We brine turkeys in vegetable crispers.

Blessedly, we also create love for each other despite it all, despite the oddities and warts. And if that isn't the spirit of the season, by golly, I don't know what is.

Slungover.

Yeah. It's been a while. Truth is, I finished classes for the semester and have promptly checked out of all my daily life responsibilities, save for working and engaging in basic daily hygiene. So while I continue to floss, I'm not up to the task of waking before 9:30 am during the week, or blogging. Before I know it, I'll be back to waking up at 7:30 am and returning home at 10:00 pm, and I'll be damned if I don't take advantage of extra sleep while I can....

Anyhow, today I familiarized myself with a whole new world of pain: The Hungover Nanny. As the kids say, I was "like OMG so bad." Yesterday was a truly fantastic holiday party. In true Sunday Funday style, drinking started around 2:00 in the afternoon. I was pickled by 6:00 pm but just for good measure, stopped eating and continued drinking for two more hours. I didn't drive, but I did manage to fall asleep in the bath tub (why was I in there in the first place??) then wake enough to crawl into bed, still clutching a Santa hat from CVS pharmacy. Class, all the way.

This might not be so bad except that the girls are out of school, which means I take care of them from 8:00 am to 6:00 pm. When my alarm when off at 7:00 this morning, I was thirsty, starving (didn't I eat half an egg casserole the night before??) angry, and suffering from what felt like a giant sweater wrapped around my brain. I was running late so there was no time for an emergency trip to Torchy's. Upon arriving at the house, I realized I work in the single worst environment for nursing a hangover. Not only are there two diabolical munchkins to contend with, but it's also a vegan household, with a parent that works for Whole Foods. So. Not a bit of grease or fat in the whole damn place. In place of chips, queso, a Dublin Dr. Pepper, and a Dirty Sanchez taco, I forced down coconut juice, and brown rice with tofu. Note to self: *not* the same. I survived the day. Just barely.

On a positive note, my holiday cookies were a hit (I'll throw the recipe at the end of this). Plus, I invented a new drink! Ding Ding! So I'm a fan of the Colorado Bulldog. Yesterday, when all the champagne and beer had mysteriously disappeared, I moved onto vodka. We also had cream. But no Kahlua or Coca-Cola in sight. But I did improvise with some Dr. Pepper and voila! The Texas Bulldog was born:

• Ice
• Shot of cream
• Vodka (whenever you think you've poured enough, pour for another three seconds)
• Splash of Dr. Pepper

Oh yeah, and here are the cookies. You can thank me later:

Ingredients:

1 cup butter, softened
1 cup white sugar
1 cup packed brown sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon (I also add in nutmeg)
3 cups quick cooking oats
*Optional: raisins, nuts, choc chips (I add in 1/2 cup white chocolate chips, 1/2 cup dried cranberries, and 1/2 cup chopped walnuts)

Directions:

1. In a medium bowl, cream together white sugar, butter, and brown sugar. Beat in eggs one at a time, then stir in vanilla.

2. Combine flour, cinnamon, baking soda,and salt. Stir into the creamed mixture. Mix in oats. If you are using nuts or raisins, mix into dough, combining well. Cover, and chill dough for at least one hour.

3. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). Grease cookie sheets. Roll the dough into balls, and place 2 inches apart on cookie sheets. Note: they don't spread out much during baking, so I roll them into a ball then flatten slightly.

4. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes in preheated oven. Makes about 24-36 cookies, depending on size.

Fire.

So the other day, I met with the career manager of my master's program. The appointment was depressing, but I suppose not entirely grim. Not surprisingly, the job market is heinous and all the more competitive in the country's fastest growing city. On the upside, I still have mostly functioning brain matter and a pulse. It's a start.

As expected, my dreams of becoming that college professor everyone love's have pretty much been squashed. In fact, I left still desperately searching for the silver lining to the cloud telling me that no, there really isn't much demand for an MLA in English & Writing. Actually, there isn't any demand at all. Have fun paying off that $30,000 master's degree! I should have become an accountant...

Fortunately, I possess an uncanny ability to get myself into jobs for which I have little to no qualification. When I can get face time, I somehow convince otherwise logical, reputable employers that they should hire me based on the fact that...well, probably based on the fact that maybe they like me and have a 'hunch' that I'll be good. I work hard, learn fast and thus far, have never let anybody down.

My only fear is having to return to the corporate world. However, I also recognize that I might have to get a little creative with how I apply my English degree. Ultimately, the one positive of an otherwise drab meeting is that I now have a fire under my ass. I left college with a job lined up, and I intend to do the same post-grad school. Because here's the thing about me: tell me I can't and I must. It's that simple. People told me don't go to Africa- I got myself in at the UN and hopped a plane to Ghana. People told me don't buy a project house- I tore up carpet, stained concrete floors, and painted every square inch, all within 4 weeks. People tell me don't get a Humanities degree- I'll finish, with flying colors, and move confidently onto my next dream. So there.

In that effort, I've started reaching out to people in various fields. The thing is, I have to exploit being a student until that status expires in 2012. Because you can contact someone and say, "I'm currently in grad school and interested in finding out more about how you entered your field" and *bam* you're that diligent student, just trying to figure things out. Maybe you endear yourself because they too, once were students and loved the experience. At any rate, people are receptive. But once I become an alum, I'm just another job seeker, and nobody -not nobody- cares that much about job seekers.

Networking is something I thought reserved for uptight people in stuffy offices, but it turns out even the hippie in me has to kiss some ass. Who knew?? I've paid my application fee to join the Association for Women in Communication, in the hopes I can charm the pants off some people important enough to put me on payroll.

In sum: it'll be a grueling 18 months while I continue working long hours during the day, schooling at night, and getting myself a job that doesn't involve poopy diapers. But watch out world, here I come.