High fashion...

...for lounging in front of the woodstove on a cold winter night in Oregon.

Black stretchy pyjamas.

(They're slimming you know.)

Green knitted-by-me prayer shawl.

Pink fuzzy socks gifted to me by piano students.

Playing on Jeff's laptop and waiting for Tom Selleck in Jesse Stone: Thin Ice.

Wake me in April, would you please?

The Hummer

Jeff and I had a quiet Christmas day. We slept in, ate leftovers, thought about going to the movies but by then it was too late to catch a matinee. I refuse to pay $10 each to see a movie. We puddled around on our computers and took a nap. Getting, frankly, a little bored.

Then I got the brilliant idea to take Jenny and the boys to see a light show that I had heard about at a house in Amity, about 20 miles from us. It is apparently fantastic, with 20 minutes of lights synchronized to music, mostly Trans-Siberian Orchestra, which plays on your car radio. I told Jeff to copy down the directions and address while I took a shower and off we went. We drove around for almost two hours and couldn't find the house. No one at the general store in Amity had heard of it and yet they have their own website. Strange, we thought. Even if Jeff had copied down the directions or the address wrong, surely he wouldn't have gotten both of them wrong, and it looked so straightforward. The gas tank was almost on empty so we gave up and came home.

Unfulfilled.

Jeff fell asleep and Thomy wanted no more part of Christmas lights.

So we dropped them off at home and drove up to the ritzy housing development in town where they have a whole street of decorated houses. The best part is in the cul-de-sac, although it was mighty cold once you got out of the protection of the street.

Without the flash you get a better idea of the magical effect.

I made a video so that you can see more of the street. When I played it back I realized I was humming. Jeff is sweet and laughs at my humming. It bothers some people. My sister and I were driving in her car a few years ago and I was humming, as usual. She said, "Do you always do that?" in a slightly testy tone of voice. Yes, I do. I don't know when it started, or why I do it. I usually hum the last tune I heard, which, in my life, changes frequently. Sometimes, when I have to learn a difficult tune for my music therapy groups, I have to practise the song 20 or 30 times. Like "I can Sing a Rainbow," which has a key change halfway through. I hummed and sang that one for weeks before I could get it out of my head. And even now it creeps back in sporadically. I hum a lot when I'm at the grocery store. Once in a while I catch someone else humming. We just smile at each other and walk on. As Adrian Monk would say, "It's a blessing.......and a curse."

I can't even figure out what song I was humming, it must have been on the radio before we got out of the car. The trouble is, sometimes I sing notes in my head instead of out loud, so you don't get a good sense of the melody, only random snatches of the tune. If you can decipher it, let me know and I'll make it worth your while.

Oh yeah. We checked the directions when we finally arrived home. Jeff got both the directions and the address wrong. What are the odds of that? Maybe we'll try again tonight.

NOT!

Christmas joy, with photos, hopefully, fixed

Christmas Eve was pretty riotous at our house. Jon had to work later in the evening so our time was limited. The meat wasn't "falling off the bone" yet when he and his family arrived, so we opened presents first. My policy has always been that we read the story of Christ's birth before we open presents. This has been met with various degrees of enthusiasm over the years, depending on the ages of the children. This year, I had about 20% cooperation, but after announcing that there would NOT be any presents unless we read about the real meaning of Christmas, things improved somewhat.

Daniel faded fast. The excitement of it also being his birthday celebration proved to be a little too much.

We gave the older grandchildren money for designated classes this year, in an effort to not contribute to their piles of stuff. Here is Thomy opening his envelope. He will take art classes in January. He has incredible fine motor skills, which Jonnie attributes to playing video games. He also has a lot of patience and is painstaking in his colouring and art work, so I think the classes will open his eyes to new ideas.

Daniel got money for basketball or science class, depending on what is offered when the new Park and Rec schedule comes out. Kenzie gets a month of horse riding lessons.

Everyone got cozy fleece pyjama pants from Nana and Papa.

Natalie, showing off her new pants, hairband and purse. The girl has impeccable fashion sense, don't you think?

Let the feast begin. Roast beef with mashed potatoes and corn and peas and killer rolls. Sparkling grape juice. My rolls have been less than marvelous lately but these were divine. Maybe it was all the butter I slathered them with before I rolled them into crescents.

Last Christmas I bought a box of Christmas crackers at Costco. Crackers are an integral part of the Christmas celebration in England, so they bring back sweet memories for me. We've had them a few times with our family, but they weren't always easy to find and even then were expensive. A cracker, if you don't know, consists of a cardboard tube wrapped in pretty foil paper. Inside is a party hat, a prize, and a joke or saying, kind of like a fortune cookie. When you pull it with a partner, it splits unevenly. The split is accompanied by a small bang which is ever so thrilling! The bang is from the effect of friction on a chemically impregnated card strip. Crackers were invented in England in 1847 by a sweet (candy) maker as a promotional gimmick. Thank you Wikipedia.

Chris got the prize he had coveted, a mini tape measure. These were high-quality crackers. Daniel got a metal yo-yo.

Jon and Jenny look less than thrilled with their cracker experience.

Note the quality silver party hats.

If you can get past Bethany's fearsome face.

Jeff, eating his peas and corn. I think that was all he ate.

Jonnie, expounding on the evils of monoculture, specifically potatoes in this instance. Luckily, I had prepared yellow potatoes that were organically grown by Farmer Brown, rather than the ubiquitous russet.

Natalie, at the end of the day and with chocolate face, riding her and Joshie's new rocking horse.

A Happy Christmas to all my friends and readers.

I hope your day is (or was) as merry as mine.

Fearful Symmetry

I have spent almost 54 years not thinking about persimmons.

That's strange, you think to yourself, I think about persimmons quite often.

Forgive me for saying that you are full of:

Tommyrot.

Balderdash.

Poppycock.

A few weeks ago there was a lot of buzz on the Prepare Now Yahoo group about an order of persimmons that was coming to town. I resisted ordering because, don't you know, I have never tasted a persimmon and ergo find it hard to get excited about ordering a 20 pound box of them.

Nevertheless, I must have been pondering the subject in my subconscious because some nights later I had a very vivid dream about the magical fruit. I can still recall the texture of the skin as I peeled the fruit and the smoothness of the inner flesh as I sliced it. The taste was divine, sweet and creamy without being cloying at all.

I awoke in the midst of the dream and thought to myself that perhaps (!) I might actually like persimmons. If you know me at all, you know that I am somewhat of a picky eater. Certain things will never cross my lips because of their smell. I have tried, darn it, to eat salad ingredients but they just taste like grass. Suffice it to say that I am not an adventurous eater. I have attributed that sad state to the fact that I am a bit of a super-taster, which, for you doubters, is an actual scientific state of being. Really. It is.

The persimmon tree species diospyros belongs to the ebony wood family. Diospyros means "the fruit of the Gods" in ancient Greek. Persimmons are high in nutrients but eating too many unripe fruit can cause bezoars that require surgery in most cases. What is a bezoar, you ask? Think hairballs in cats. Same kind of mass in the digestive tract. Yummy! Moral of the story, make sure your persimmons are ripe before you ingest.

So, on with the persimmon story.

Last Saturday my friend Barb and I decided to walk at the local university's track, which is close to her house. It is one of those nice soft tracks and my legs have been hurting lately so we thought we'd give me a break. It was a cold, damp, morning, but we had a great time catching up on all our news and NOT talking about persimmons.

As I was leaving to return home she gave me...

three

perfect

persimmons.

What Nana did today

Walk with Barb. Check.
Get mammogram. Check.
Get blood drawn. Check.
Pick up beef from Janine's freezer and give her some pumpkin bread. Check.
Make Kenzie's Christmas dress. Check.

You can't tell, but the fabric has pink and white polka dots and glitter all over it. Two of Kenzie's favourite things.

P.S. If you click on the photos you can get a nice close-up of the fabric. It's rather pretty and Kenzie has been nagging me for quite a long time to make something for her out of it. I have a new thing in my head, that I should use up the resources I've been accumulating before I buy new stuff. One down, a gazillion to go!

My own personal elf

Guilty Pleasures, Added Upon

Annie wrote in her blog about her enjoyment of drinking hot chocolate this time of year. She melts a minty candy cane in hers to flavour it.
She comes by the habit honestly. Her Nana has long been famous for her hot chocolate habit. Or Milo, as she drinks in New Zealand. All year long. Only one cup a day, she claims, but we all know better!
I am partial to a steaming cup of cocoa in the winter. My guilty pleasure is a splash of flavoured coffee creamer. Yum. The flavour of the moment is "CoffeeHouse Inspirations Caramel Macchiato."
It even SOUNDS sinful.

THAT was not an easy photo to take.

No flash, left-handed, while pouring.

Hence the ever-so-slight blurriness.

What is your guilty pleasure?
And don't try telling me you don't have one!

P.S. This post got me thinking about some defining hot chocolate moments throughout the years at our house. When Jeff and I were first married and had no money at all, one of our big treats was a cup of hot chocolate with a scoop of vanilla ice cream floating on top. It was blissfully delicious. Then we went through a cinnamon-sprinkled-on-top stage. The kids, of course, loved mini-marshmallows the best. Then Costco, in our more affluent years, started selling the Swiss Miss (or maybe it was Nestles) packets of flavoured hot chocolate mix. Raspberry, caramel, hazelnut, French vanilla. I love to heat up a big pot of milk when we have a crowd in the house, adding bits of this and bits of that until I arrive at chocolate Nirvana. It is such a comforting drink, nothing beats it for me.