Kiffel Mastery – Day 414

Aunt Grace would be proud – Photo: L. Weikel

Kiffel Mastery

It’s been days since I embarked upon this quest. I’ve received an assortment of earnest clues from you, my companions on this 1111 devotion; glimpses of possibilities and tantalizing if elusive hints of how I might walk in the footsteps of Aunt Grace and bring forth the resurrection (at least in our household) of her nut-filled kiffels. I thank you for suggestions – they were all frustratingly, as I say, elusive.

Not the Only Tradition

Just as I’ve regaled you with memories of the walnut torte birthday cakes Aunt Grace would bake us (supplemented, of course, by Carol’s Chocolate Cake), I realize, now that I’ve been recently focusing my attention on my childhood, that kiffels were every bit as much a Christmas tradition in our home as the walnut torte was our birthday tradition.

To be sure, my father’s mother was an extraordinary baker in her own right, albeit not Hungarian (actually, mostly Irish). Grandma’s coffee cake, apple pie, and biscuits – oh my goodness, her biscuits, that didn’t even need butter on the soft, downy insides revealed when you broke one open – were enough to make you melt into a pool of drool.

And her coffee cake was indeed another part of our Christmas morning tradition – although I seem to recall she would bake that at other times of the year as well. Same with her apple pie, which was extraordinary. (My recollection of her apple pie is all about the crust. I remember eating all the cinnamon infused filling first so I could ever so slowly, bite by bite, savor the crust, baked just to the perfect state of doneness.)

Christmas Tradition

But on Christmas morning, all my nieces and nephews would have to sit on the stairs waiting for the adults to get their cups of coffee and settle into their spots in the living room before the stocking unpacking and present unwrapping extravaganza could commence. (I got to come down maybe a minute or so earlier to claim my ‘spot’ in the room, because I was technically in the generation of their parents.) Part of my parents’ and brothers and sisters’ ritual, once settled, was to pass to each other the round ‘tin’ lined with waxed paper that held the cherished Aunt Grace’s kiffels nestled in confectioner’s sugar. As a child, I favored the powdered sugar and could take or leave the kiffels themselves. But as maturity crept up on me, I began to appreciate the adults’ culinary discernment.

After we married and moved away, and Aunt Grace grew much older, my closest sister and her husband began making the kiffels. For a good ten years or so, they would see to it that a small round tin, lined in waxed paper and filled with kiffels, would be part of our continuing Christmas tradition.

Times Change

As I’ve mentioned recently, I was always under the impression that the desserts made by Aunt Grace were simply too difficult for me to replicate. So it’s only been in the past four years or so when I’ve actually started trying my hand at the walnut torte – and now, this year, the kiffels.

I find it fascinating to realize the pedestal upon which I placed these confections, honestly believing I did not have the baking skills to recreate them for myself. I’ve found I make tweaks to the walnut torte recipe; every time I make it I bring it inch-by-inch closer to capturing the essence of Aunt Grace’s cakes.

Kiffel Challenge

Which leads me to these kiffels and, in particular, the quest to recreate the quintessential nut filling.

So many of you remarked on egg whites, sugar, and walnuts. A few had butter in the recipe instead of egg whites. Nobody had a lot to say as far as proportions of those ingredients. But I’m delighted that you cared enough to give me your best ideas! Thank you!

This morning, though, I decided that I was either going to give it a try and ‘wing it’ as far as proportions – or I would have to let it go for the season. After gathering the ingredients for the nut filling as best as I could guess, I looked over one last time all the comments that were made either on the blog posts or via email. And then a miracle happened!

As if she’d heard me from afar, Aunt Grace had my niece write the exact recipe for her kiffels’ nut filling and post it under my blog post! Let me emphasize this:with exact measurements!  I was delighted! For whatever reason, just having that confirmation of exactly what she would use and in the proportions she used them made all the difference for me.

The Real Deal – Photo: L. Weikel

Eureka Moment

And then, as if the clouds parted and angels started singing, I suddenly fully comprehended that I’d not been rolling the kiffels – I’d been pinching them. Closing them and their fillings up as if they were pierogies. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

So now, all of a sudden, my creations look like kiffels, too!

I also made a point of allowing the balls to sit out a bit more before ‘wrastling’ them into submission with the rolling pin. The results are, if I may be so bold, spectacular.

The delectable deliciousness I’ve been indulging in this evening as the kiffels have come out of the oven and then bathed in a shower of confectioner’s sugar after cooling is so reminiscent of Christmases past that I feel a different sort of connection this year. I’m appreciating the tastes that accompanied the rituals of stockings and presents. The anticipation for and appreciation of Aunt Grace’s baking. And the warm feeling I have deep down that I eventually managed to get it right. Honestly, I think Aunt Grace was watching over me today, especially. It just all clicked into place and my hands knew what to do.

I’m committing these recipes to electronic and handwritten recipe cards. These traditions are too delicious and nurturing to the soul to lose.

(T-697)

Top Gun – Day 413

 

Top Gun

OK, I’ll admit it. In anticipation of the release of Top Gun: Maverick, we just spent $2.99 to watch the original Top Gun on Amazon Prime.

If I were enlisting the support of emojis in this post, I would most definitely insert an eye roll at this point. Or possible the green barf emoji.

First of all, let me state how incredibly weird it was to watch this movie from 1986 with our kids, neither of whom were born when it was released.

When they asked Karl and me whether we’d seen it when it first came out, of course we answered in the affirmative. Who in their 20s hadn’t seen it? It was one of those iconic films that almost everyone of a certain age saw when it came out. Popular culture – it had just as strong an influence back then as it does now.

In Retrospect

Holy cow, though.

When they asked whether we’d seen it and liked it, I have to admit that I really only remembered the general storyline. It was pretty formulaic. I mostly recalled the basic emotions associated with it: it was a macho movie about fighter pilots starring Tom Cruise. Some tragedy. Some romance. Lots of ego. Lessons learned. Yada yada yada. Yeah, it was ok.

But actually watching it? Oh my. There were just so many groaner moments, it was hard not to feel we were watching it from more of a Mystery Science Theater 3000 perspective.

In fact, there was a fair amount of snark being hurled at our tv screen as we allowed history to unfold before our eyes.

Watching the way the genders interacted, not only with each other but perhaps even more shockingly amongst themselves, was discomfiting. Did we really think that overt macho bullshit was normal? (Scarier still, I think we all sense that attitude is alive and well to this day.) And would a woman who obviously was highly educated (in astrophysics or something) and a flight instructor in her own right, really be as dumb and pliable as Kelly McGillis’s character? It all made me cringe.

The ’80s

This was the 1980s! How could the attitudes appear so stereotypical, archaic, and quaint when it feels like that decade wasn’t all that long ago?

I guess that’s the illusion of life.

Sage and Sarah are pretty much the same ages as Karl and I were when Top Gun came out, give or take a year or two. I wonder: will they look back in 33 years at movies that are coming out now, movies that really resonate with them (or are at least reasonably entertaining) at this point in their lives, and think, “Gawd, what were we thinking?!?!”

Of course, it’s not as if Top Gun was a movie to live by or anything. It was not a cinematic masterpiece. But it did reflect the basic attitudes and posturing of people in their early to mid 20s in the obnoxious ’80s.

I’m not even going to mention the way Kelly McGillis was treated in real life with respect to the making of the sequel. Surely that’s as big a commentary upon our culture as the rest of this is.

The ’20s

We’re entering a whole new decade in a few days. I wonder what it will hold for all of us – in our lives, in our entertainment, and in our reality.

(T-698)

Peeps – Day 412

Bright and Shining Moments (Wm Penn Inn) – Photo: L. Weikel

Peeps

There are just some people in the world whom you consider your ‘peeps’ and there are others you don’t. It doesn’t really mean anything, other than you’ve found your tribe.

There are, if you’re lucky, a lot of people you feel close enough to who can always (or could) cushion your fall. But there are the precious few who are always there. Just…always. No matter how many blood relatives you or they have. No matter how many months have gone by without an opportunity to sit down and have a really good, long chat. Without them having any idea what you may have been encountering in your life (and concomitantly, you having no idea what they’ve been encountering in theirs, either)…you just pick up.

Precious

Those are the precious ones.

Of course, I’m not dissing the others. Not by any means. It’s just that the ones I’m describing are in a category all their own. And the cool thing is, they can come from other subsets: meaning, they can actually be members of their own alpha pack, and yet be so genuine and so real that their energies transcend the other connections to forge meaningful bonds of their own. They can even be members of your bloodline – which is, in my estimation, a most extraordinary home run or stroke of luck on everyone’s part.

I’m probably blathering, and you are mostly wondering what in the world I’m talking about, because – key question weighing most heavily on all our minds is (if we’re honest) – what does this have to do with kiffels?

And did I discover the secret recipe for the nut confection that goes into the aforementioned kiffels?!

I think I may have hit pay dirt in that arena, but I have to wait until tomorrow to test out my theory In the meantime, and while this may indeed be a precious discovery, it is the celebration of friendship that I wanted to highlight.

But you know what? I’m reaching that point of sleepy appreciation that makes words sometimes sound like puffy clouds instead of the stalwart descriptors of some of the most important aspects of our lives.

Burdens

For whatever reason, as I sit here in the semi darkness, I’m realizing more acutely in the moment how friends are truly ‘sharers of burdens.’ That’s a rather cumbersome title, but it’s true. A true friend does really and truly share our burdens and – not to be cliché but, darn, it does sound it – double our joys.

Yes, I’m waxing rhapsodic over friendship this evening. It’s because in the last several hours, days, weeks, and months, I’ve found myself experiencing such profound levels of love and friendship that those relationships demand recognition. They demand to be honored. And they demand to be appreciated for the unique lessons, joys, realizations, and astonishing insights they can bring us – if we just pay attention and listen.

I am being vague – and I both mean to be and wish I weren’t.

The truth is, I need to go to bed. I need to dream into being the recipe for nut filling in kiffels. And if I do, perhaps I’ll share them with those true friends I mentioned above. Then again, I may be a total undisciplined kiffel hoarder.

No promises. I must sleep.  That said…let this be a short but sincere homage to true friendship. I’m so grateful to experience it! And I wish it for each and every one of us. Because that’s what life is all about: Relationships. Love. Friendships. Kiffels.

And perhaps most important of all: a sense of humor.

(T-699)

Kiffel Debrief #1 – Day 411

First kiffel display – Photo: L. Weikel

Kiffel Debrief #1  

Yes! I finally managed to make my first-ever batch of Hungarian kiffels, aka “Aunt Grace’s Kiffels.”

I’m totally puzzled by this experience. The recipe, first of all, is decidedly incomplete at written. There is no mention of adding flour gradually – and by hand, nonetheless. This potentially game-changing detail was only conveyed orally. (OK, in a text message from one person and an email from another – but the salient point remains, nonetheless, that this detail was not included in the recipe itself!)

First Impression

My primary hope as I jumped right into Phase Two of this effort was that this should be fairly straightforward. Phase One entailed creaming the butter and cream cheese, adding flour, rolling that mixture into little balls, and then “chilling them overnight.”

Surely Phase Two, which only consisted of rolling out the little balls on a powdered sugared board, filling each with ½ tsp. of filling, baking them the requisite minutes, and then dusting each with another coat of powdered sugar sounded, again, pretty darn straightforward and, dare I say, easy.

Wrong!

I couldn’t have been more wrong. First of all, the little balls of dough essentially became pellets of iron as they chilled innocently in my refrigerator. Good grief. I could’ve more easily loaded them into my old neighbor’s musket (thinking of you, Earl) and done serious damage to intruders than I could effortlessly roll them out and fill them with filling.

So here I was. I’d set up my living room as a miniature assembly line, with tray tables set up where I would roll, fill, and load onto the cookie sheets. This enabled me to create the kiffels while watching a sci-fi series with Karl (The Expanse on Amazon Prime – it’s good!) instead of being relegated to the kitchen, where I have no counter space anyway.

I know I’m going to be sore tomorrow from stooping over the tray tables. It took a considerable amount of weight and pressure to roll out those iron balls! And I just never seemed to get the knack of creating a rolled out ball of any consistency. Each and every one was a study in avant-garde artistic expression.

They may have effused artistry (if you looked at them with only one eye, perhaps) – but I assure you, they were irritatingly labor intensive and actually, in a word, ugly.

They did not harken back even remotely to the kiffels I remember of my youth. Nor did they resemble my youngest sister and her husband’s efforts over the years to produce kiffels just before Christmas.

In fulfillment of my commitment to full frontal honesty with my wonderful readers, I offer you this photo of the very first batch’s arrival from the oven. Not a pretty sight:

First ever batch of kiffels (poppyseed filling) – Photo: L. Weikel

Christmas Cat

As can also be seen in my main photo at the top of this post, I did reach a point where they at least looked somewhat remotely like kiffels. They don’t look half bad adorning the Christmas Cat plate.

But I assure you, due to the shocking labor intensity required of me, I only ended up baking about three dozen. And I only used poppy seed and sour cherry preserves as fillings. I’m feeling a major yearning for the sugar/cinnamon/crushed walnut topping that goes into them as well – but have to date found no one who definitively maintains that part of the recipe.

I may have to improvise.

Why Puzzled?

You may be wondering why I stated early on in this post that this experience has me puzzled. That’s because the recipe is literally only one simple paragraph long. I assumed it was easy – and therein lay my folly.

I’ve felt an unspoken intimidation whenever I considered baking anything of Aunt Grace’s. I believed with all my heart that my baking could never be as good as hers. So when I started challenging myself a couple years ago with baking “Aunt Grace’s cake” – and discovering that, with just a little practice I could make a pretty terrifically yummy cake – I got cocky. I thought the kiffels would naturally be easier than that magnificent cake.

But I was wrong. The kiffels are crafty. And I will not rest until I figure out how to fill them with that elusive nut mixture.

Until then, it’s Lisa vs. kiffels.

(T-700)

Interlude – Day 410

Solar Eclipse 26 Dec 19 – Photo: timesofindia.com

Interlude      

Lest you think I’m going to regale you with yet another post describing tasty morsels of baked goodness, fear not! Before we proceed to a kiffel debrief (which I hope to provide you tomorrow, but you never know), I offer you this brief interlude from above.

Today’s Eclipse

Today we here on Earth experienced an annular solar eclipse. That means that the distance of the moon (new to us, to we could not ‘see’ it) was such that when it progressed to the point where it appeared to be exactly between us and the sun, it didn’t quite block the sun entirely. Instead, there was a ‘ring of fire’ visible around the edges of the moon.

Unfortunately for us here in the United States – and even western Europe, etc. – we couldn’t see it happening. It was visible in the area of Saudi Arabia, Qatar, etc. But we have photos.

So not only can we enjoy the astronomical majesty and breathtaking beauty of this eclipse via posts on the internet, but we can also listen to the astrological assessment of how this eclipse may impact us now and into the approaching year.

Kaypacha’s Pele Report contains some important doses of reality that we’re almost certain to encounter. I encourage you to take a listen. It’s always better to be forewarned.

Sunset in PA on eclipse day (26Dec19) – Photo: L.Weikel

Next Eclipse: Lunar on January 10, 2020

And since eclipses always come in cycles, the lunar eclipse that follows a solar eclipse is coming in two weeks. Stay tuned!

(T-701)

Cookies – Day 409

Oatmeal cookies (Trust me there were more) – Photo: L. Weikel

Cookies 

We decided to forego the normal Christmas fare this year. In fact we were pretty lackadaisical on the food front overall. (Anyone who knows me, knows that’s not a big stretch for this forager.)(And no, that’s not any type of romanticized version of a forager. I’m talking refrigerator and cupboard foraging.)

Anyway, probably because I’d declared publicly that I wanted to read, I decided instead to bake cookies.

Yeah. Don’t look at me like that.

I baked oatmeal cookies on Christmas Eve and peanut butter cookies today.

And tomorrow, because I’m a glutton for punishment (and I’m also clearly not on the timeline most people are, since the holiday baking is supposed to be complete by now, isn’t it?), I’m actually going to try my hand at making Aunt Grace’s kiffels. (This is the same Aunt Grace who would make the walnut torte as our birthday cake.)

Blowfish

I feel like, if you looked at me right now, I’d resemble a blowfish. I’ve probably eaten more cookies today than I’ve eaten in a year. I have to admit, though, while they may not be the traditional holiday cookies with sprinkles and cutouts, they are exceedingly tasty morsels.

Photo: zmescience.com

I’m actually looking forward to giving the kiffels a try. I feel as though I’m on a roll here on the baking front. So I might as well strike while the oven is hot. (Yeah, I know. I broadcast that one well in advance. You knew it was coming and I didn’t want to disappoint.)

Sugar Snark

Clearly I’ve had too many cookies. I’m writing this post with such wanton abandon that I feel as if I’ve had a couple stiff drinks. I do believe it must be the sugar. I’m punch drunk on cookie dough.

I hope everyone had a memorable day of family, friends, food, and fun – and not too much drama.

I need to get to bed. It’s kiffel time tomorrow!

Peanut butter cookies – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-702)

God Jul! – Day 408

 

God Jul!

That’s Merry Christmas in Swedish. I lived in Sweden during my senior year in high school. Being an exchange student was probably one of the hardest things I ever accomplished, but also one of the most fundamental to shaping who I am today.

But I’m not actually interested in focusing on myself or that part of my life tonight. I’m only thinking in terms of a Scandinavian language because I’ve been contemplating jólabókaflód, an Icelandic tradition you may have read about.

Jólabókaflód

Our family flirted with this a couple years ago, but we didn’t ensure that all complied. To be honest, I was the worst about actually permitting myself to just sit and immerse myself in the written word.

We all got books for each other that year, but only some of us spent Christmas Eve (or any other part of the holiday) reading. Others of us were still preoccupied wrapping presents and providing some technical assistance to Santa in the stocking department.

I mentioned to Karl the possibility of us embracing this again this year, but it just didn’t happen.

Realizing the Pattern

If I’m honest, I’ve known for a long time that I rarely give myself the chance to “just” sit and read. Pretty much the only dedicated time I allow myself to read (I’m talking a novel or memoir or something else that takes me ‘elsewhere’ and isn’t a newspaper or magazine article) is after I’ve written my post for the evening and crawled into bed. And the duration of that engagement is often far too short for my taste.

While it’s extremely rare for me not to allow myself to read at least a full page before falling asleep, it’s equally true that I’m often hard pressed to wedge in many more pages than one because I fall asleep mid-sentence.

I’m delighted when I hit my stride in a book and find myself unable to put it down. Yeah, man – that is the best feeling ever: finding a book you can’t put down.

Breaking Out

So, I realize my pattern. And I’m going to make a concerted effort this year to break out of that rut. I want to read more. And I want to write more. It’s as simple as that.

And while Karl and I may not have succeeded in embodying or practicing the essence (or even the superficiality) of jólabókaflód this year, I’m sensing that we may delay its implementation this year until New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day instead. Just because we dropped the ball tonight does not mean we can’t pick it back up over the next several days and run with it.

I feel an aspiration coming on: 2020 may just be the year I do a deep dive into words.

My own personal (and perhaps enduring?) jólabókaflód.

Oh! And Merry Christmas, by the way! God Jul!

(T-703)

All’s Quiet – Day 407

Rainbow – Photo: L. Weikel

All’s Quiet    

I’m sitting here in the silence of my living room (if you don’t count the snoring of Sheila and Precious) – and it is exquisitely delicious.

Karl and I took a walk tonight, once I finally got home from doing some errands. The sky had a smattering of clouds, but we could still see a vast array of stars splashed from one horizon to the other. What we really noticed the most, though, was how quiet everything was.

It almost felt as though we were walking during a snowstorm. You know, that muffled silence that always accompanies falling or freshly fallen snow? In fact, I just read something about that the other day. The muffling of ambient noise is attributed to the fluffiness of the snow, I think – the air trapped between the flakes.

I don’t know; I can’t really remember. It doesn’t actually matter, since snow was not the cause of the quiet tonight. Perhaps it was the sound of people starting to slow down, to take a breather from the inevitable frantic pace that precedes this time of year in particular.

What We Really Want

It’s easy to pick on the materialism of our society and criticize the obligation so many people feel to give gifts to ‘everyone on their list.’ We’re a consumptive society. It’s been ingrained in us all our lives that the way to show someone you care about or love them is to buy them something. And even worse is when people equate the depth of the love to the cost of the gifts.

We’re bombarded from every direction with messages barking at us that this widget or that doodad will make the difference. We’ll know we’re loved or, perhaps even more importantly, we’ll know we’ve made it (or at least tell ourselves we have) if we can give that impressive doodad. And if we can’t? Well. Many feel an overwhelming desire to fake it – and there are lots of ways to fake it.

But I think the real burden is the desire to express heartfelt caring and not knowing, really, how to give that feeling. How do we go about bringing light into someone’s life?

Maybe it’s by sitting quietly and figuring out what would bring light into our own life. Maybe it’s by listening to what our heart is saying over and over and over again – hoping that one day we’ll actually stop and listen.

Time

As we were walking in the starlight this evening, Karl and I talked yet again about having – or, rather, not having – gifts to give each other this year. Neither one of us wants for anything. We are surrounded by an abundance of comfort; indeed, we have too many ‘things,’ if we’re honest. And we have zero desire to buy stuff just because – whether it’s because we don’t want to or because it’s expected.

We don’t need new clothes. In truth, we don’t need anything that can be bought in a store (besides groceries; we do love to eat). Even the most exotic boutique of hand-crafted amazingness would fail to provide the gift that is most precious to both of us. And that is time. Time together. Time to create. Time to read. Time to listen to music. Time to feed our souls. Time to allow ourselves to stop thinking about selling or buying or going to meetings or paying the bills, but instead to stop thinking altogether.

Our greatest gift to each other is making – and taking – time to walk under the stars and listen to the silence. Time to notice and appreciate the quiet, together.

(T-704)

Star Wars – Day 406

 

Star Wars     

I’m tired and I’m ready for bed.

This evening we went to see the latest Star Wars movie, ostensibly the last in the ‘series’ of nine that began in 1977.

Don’t worry; no need for any spoiler alerts. I’m not intending to reveal anything substantive.

The Illusion of Time

I just want to declare how weird it felt. It was almost as if I could bi-locate and imagine myself sitting in the theater where I saw the first Star Wars back in August 1977. I was in Monroeville, with my brother and his family. I’d just arrived home from a year abroad in Sweden and was about to head off to my freshman year at Penn State.

Here I was, a lifetime later, in a theater with one of my grown sons sitting beside me. And not only have some characters in the movie aged appropriately, but I have too. And even more surreal, my son is actually just a couple years shy of being twice as old as I was when I saw that first movie.

It’s just all so weird.

Yes, I keep using the same lame description for what I’m feeling. But throughout the 2 hour and 22 minute movie, I found myself slipping out of linear time and looking at everything from a different perspective. In some ways, so much has changed since 1977 and in others we are pathetically mired in the same old junk.

One Thing

There was one thing that stood out to me. When I watched the first Star Wars, I felt such a distinct and powerful connection to the whole concept of The Force. I just knew it was real. And I was absolutely convinced that somehow, some way, I would learn about The Force, quite possibly even learn how to consciously work with it myself.

Little did I know.

Or maybe – just maybe – the more appropriate expression is, “Wow, we really are being given an opportunity to LIVE THIS. Right now.”

What a wild time to be alive.

I know; it’s just a dumb movie. But all of this feels bigger than just a movie. Unfortunately, I’m having a hard time articulating precisely what I mean by that this evening.

Maybe I’ll have another go at it some other day.

(T-705)

Laptop Guardian – Day 405

Laptop Guardian – Photo: L. Weikel

Laptop Guardian 

Now and then we all encounter obstacles. Every once in a while, we run into unexpected snags to our most thoughtful plans or well-practiced habits.

This evening, my long-standing routine of writing my nightly 1111 Devotion post on my MacBook Air, a habit precipitated by my Dell laptop’s nervous breakdown shortly into the establishment of this Act of Power, was nearly entirely derailed by Cletus.

I first encountered Cletus the Laptop Guardian when I glanced across the room and focused my attention on my MacBook this evening. When I walked over to my writing machine with an eye toward crafting my post (and maybe even getting to bed at a half reasonable hour – an idea instantly THWARTED), I realized this was not a case of simply placing said portable computer into my lap.

No, I was going to have to face the Laptop Guardian.

He Looks Innocent Enough

At first glance, this evil trickster looks innocent enough. In fact, he almost appears to be downright cute. Possibly even cuddly.

Half a stretch here, a “come hither” extended paw there. Oh yes, he looks like he’s just snoozing near the laptop because, oh, I don’t know. It was warm? It whirred occasionally and he mistook it for a purr? I don’t honestly get the attraction.

I make my move, assuming I should have nothing to fear. He is a good kitty. Or so I tell myself, completely disregarding any and all experiences I’ve heretofore had with him.

Yikes! A faint merrow and a shift of position change the game.

Cletus the Guardian’s Stink Eye – Photo: L. Weikel

Nope. He immediately assumes lockdown position, swiftly morphing from innocent playful mode to full-on stink-eye. It’f obvious that f I even think about slipping that laptop out from under him, he will slice my hand as thoroughly as any guardian slays a dragon.

Hmm. There’s distinct tension in the air. I’m tired. I don’t feel like having to mess with this psycho cat. (“Good kitty” my behind.)

And then I follow his gaze and realize: I’m up to this task! I’ve got this.

Classic Bribery – or Bait and Switch?

Regardless, I know I need to be smooth and quick. Deftly removing my necklace of Christmas lights and palming them to maintain surprise, I approach Cletus again. This time, though, I dangle the little lights close to his fur, but carefully maintaining my distance. I don’t want him snagging them.

Score!

He’s distracted enough for me to swipe the laptop out from under him while he contemplates the dazzle of Christmas lights dancing enticingly on his fur.

I hope you guys realize the risk I have to shoulder sometimes just to get a post written every night. It’s a tough job, but…

Joyous Solstice!

Cletus the Guardian: Bribed – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-706)