Oh my, it’s fruitcake weather!

I wrote this post back in December of 2008. It’s still one of my favorite posts (and stories). 

With her Texas twang, my aunt does a perfect rendition of that line from Truman Capote's “A Christmas Memory.” After first watching the movie version at her house, several years later I encountered the audio version on a long car ride to Arkansas. It wasn’t until I bought a copy of Breakfast at Tiffany’s at a church book sale that I read the print version. It’s always with a sense of delight tempered with melancholy that I turn to the story, sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas, to follow Buddy and his friend as they buy whiskey from Mr. Ha Ha Jones, send fruitcakes to the White House, and craft homemade kites for Christmas morning.

Every year different details in the story stand out. The year my mom made homemade fruitcake, I could taste the citron as I read their recipe. Last year, when my daughter was infatuated with dolls, I could picture exactly the wicker buggy with wobbly wheels they use to haul pecans. This year, I noticed the prices of things in the Depression era story – two dollars for a quart of whiskey, fifty cents for a Christmas tree, a dime for a picture show. 

(As I reread this in 2018, my current pursuit of a theology degree drew my eye to Miss Sook’s reflections on seeing the Lord at the end of her life. As she says, “I’ll wager it never happens. I’ll wager at the very end a body realizes the Lord has already shown Himself. That things as they are…just what they’ve always seen, was seeing Him.”)

This story sates that yen you had for something rich and sweet and Christmasy, and like fruitcake, endures December after December. So after you've set up the Advent wreath, made the gingerbread cookies, and assembled some 15-odd nativity sets, it’s time to curl up with a hot mug of cider and “A Christmas Memory.”

There’s a Chef in My Family

Since we no longer live within driving distance of a family Thanksgiving gathering, we’ve had to develop some new traditions for a lunch for four.  

Last summer when my sister visited, she guided my son through the steps of the pastry dough recipe from his new cookbook Baking with Mary Berry.  So for Thanksgiving he decided to make pumpkin tarts on his own.  He made the dough, mixed the filling, and put them in the oven to bake. When they had cooled, he decided to sample one. It was then he realized there’s a difference in a ¼ teaspoon of salt (which the recipe calls for) and the 4 tablespoons of salt he had added. Scratch the tarts.

Undeterred, he went on to make Never-Enough Dinner Rolls from the children's cookbook There’s a Chef in My Family! by Emeril Lagasse. Although he did have to start over once on the rolls – mistaking the ingredients list for the directions and just throwing everything into a bowl – they turned out quite scrummy.  And, true to their name, there wasn't enough. 

Meanwhile, my daughter made Martha’s sweet potato casserole recipe, a fruit salad, and supervised the table setting. With my husband in charge of the slow cooker turkey, I just had to roast some Brussels sprouts and open the wine. 

And for that, I am truly thankful.

"There's no turkey in it"

Since I'm quite swamped with writing papers for my classes this week, I decided to dust off and repost this Thanksgiving recommendation from 2009. I'm very curious to ask what the now 13-year-old thinks of her four-year-old self. Although, I have to say she's still somewhat picky judicious in her reading material.


This was my four-year-old’s assessment after sitting down with the first Thanksgiving book in our stack - Nickommoh! - and flipping through the pictures. Then as soon as I began reading the first page (“Kautantawwitt, the Creator…”), my listener exclaimed, “English please!” After stumbling through the pronunciation of “Taqountikeeswush” and “Qunnekamuck” I too was thinking, “English please!”

Unfamiliar language aside, Jackie French Koller weaves together an intriguing story of a Narragansett harvest celebration. We watch as they build the lodge, prepare the nasaump pudding, swim in the river, and dress in paints for the singing and dancing in the Sacred Circle. The illustrations by Marcia Sewall are a pleasure to look at – from bold black lines outlining photorealistic features on one page to the rough figures sketched around a bonfire on another.

The other book we were able to procure from the library two days before Thanksgiving was Word Bird’s Thanksgiving Words by Jane Belk Moncure and illustrated by Chris McEwan. Despite the inclusion of a turkey, my (picky) listener decided this one is “not really cool because that turkey’s not cool.” Cool?

We decided to stick with this week’s Pre-K issue of the Weekly Reader for our Thanksgiving reading.

Gobble up some fun Thanksgiving Facts here.

“some images of historical smoking”

Apparently this warning has been around for about a decade, but I first noticed it a few weeks ago while watching a film on Netflix. 

Now, every time I read about a character smoking in a novel, the phrase pops into my head.

Most recently it was when I was reading The Best We Could Do, an illustrated memoir by Thi Bui. Bui chronicles her family’s escape from Vietnam in the 70s. After a winter in the Midwest plagued by illness, the family decides to move to California. As she and her sibling try to adjust to their new life, their parents continue to work and attend night school. Of her father, "I remembered he smoked a lot." The boxes depicting those afternoons with her father are bisected with somewhat menacing plumes of his cigarette smoke. Her childhood memories are framed by her experience as a new mom. At the same time, she is trying to figure out how to relate to her own parents now that she truly feels she is an adult.

Filaments of smoke also drift through a novel I picked up on the sale table at this bookstore last week. Amor Towles’ Rule of Civility is set in the 1930s. Katey Kontent and her roommate Eve strike up a conversation with a young man they meet in a bar on New Year's Eve. This chance encounter with Tinker Grey opens a small window into a posher social circle. Through Tinker’s connections, Katey finds work at a fledgling Vanity Fair type magazine and friendship, if not romance, with Tinker’s friend Wallace. Towles, a master at dialogue (and setting – be it a hunt club or “quasi-Russian demimonde”), whisks the reader into the action, leaving her quite breathless.

And not because of the second-hand smoke.  

Turning Ten

Like all good origin stories, this one begins in a garage. No, wait. With a birth.

Ten years ago, my son was born at the tail end of August. I had a semester off from teaching, so I felt like I had a little time on my hands to do some writing. A coworker suggested I try a blog. So I did.

Four cities, four libraries, four book clubs later, I somehow have kept it going – in all weathers.

Only recently have I begun sharing my posts on Facebook. Before that, I would intermittently  send out an email, casually mentioning the link. After I shared it with a Moms book club I belonged to, I heard about the following conversation:

“That blog M* sent out. It’s so funny and smart.”

“Morningstar writes it.”

 “She does??!!”

Since the blog turns 10 this month, I’ve compiled a list of 10 of my favorite posts I hope you’ll enjoy reading (or re-reading).

Because, well, that’s kind of the point.

2008 That thing is Toad!

2009 Candy, Nuts and Ladies Underwear

2010 One Night Stand (or the other)

2011 Under the Wire

2012 Happenstance

2013 Care of Wooden Floors

2014 “The pulse of the post-strip-club shopping crowd”

2015 In Storage

2016 I Have My Own Quirks

2017 “Barbie and Ruth”