TeamReedBlog.2020

When it comes to decorating my house, I'm a minimalist not because I hate clutter (I do hate clutter in my own space) but because I'm pretty sure I don't have more than a tiny sliver of good taste. Which has led me to "decorate" my basement (cellar for you Mainers) living space with photos. I've been thinking for a long time that I need to either take down all the photos and paint the slightly scarred walls.   There's a lot of formerly blank space down there. The space off the stair is about 12-feet long, and the family room is about 24-feet long, give or take with a big television screen at the west end and Jeff's home office at the east. We have things from Jeff's childhood home and his former office, and we have more photos of Ali as a child rather than the grown up she actually is. So an update, at the least, is due. I started in on that project this weekend on another sub-zero day. It'll take at least as long as this cold snap lasts or unt

Before you say "that's not chili," I will remind you that it's Grammie's chili, so reset your standards, people. This is a dish Jeff's mom sprang on her family years and years ago. I don't know the origin of it. (What say you, Maine Reeds?)  Marian was a wonderful mom. She stayed home when the kids were little, keeping them in line and dealing with a frugal budget. She often clipped recipes from the local paper and relied on Marjorie Standish's Cooking Down East to feed the brood.  She could feed five on a can of Spam, but no one would confuse her with an adventurous cook. She once wanted to get fancy and created some sort of seafood salad probably courtesy of ol' Marjorie. She was rewarded by all three of her ungrateful offspring by their refusal to eat it. She made them sit at the table for hours in the boiling heat, if you can believe their side of the story. But Grammie's chili is a family favorite. Upon waking to minus 3 degrees today, i

 My plans for a dry January were challenged when I opened the fridge today to retrieve the half-and-half for my coffee and was confronted with this sight:   It seemed wrong to dismiss an open bottle of fine champagne, and the Universe was clearly telling me that a mimosa was the right way to start off the new year. Surprisingly, I have resisted thus far. But it does seem like a shame. Can you even drink a mimosa after the sun has set? The bottle was just part of the items left over from our semi-annual NYE fest. It's been such a "thing" over the years, that Alison threw her own NYE party down in Orlando. She reported this morning that only one of her guests had thrown up. The Captain, fearfully asked if the couch we bought her had gotten in the way of the disgorgement. "Nope," she said. "Clean release in the bathroom." No vomit made the scene at our house, but there were more than a couple of highlights. I wore a top that I'd ordered for our Christ