December 27, 2009? Seriously?
I’ve only posted sonnets this month, haven’t I? You should have seen what I was doing instead of writing here. I was making almond roca. Also, caramel brownies, Nanaimo bars, four loaves of stollen that had to be kneaded all in one burgeoning lump of dough, sugar cookies, gingerbread, and most of a completely lovely lamb dinner (A did the actual deboning, trussing, roasting, etc. of the lamb, complete with accidentally melting the crap out of two instant-read thermometers; I did the sides and the miraculous gravy, set the table, and then beckoned everyone in from the living room by calling out, “Behold the lamb!”)
That was Christmas eve dinner. Before that there was the aforementioned baking and a ton of shopping—some of it earth friendly and crafty (handmade mittens! trivets woven from discarded newspaper scraps by homeless women in Haiti! sustainably harvested wooden blocks!), and some of which (glitter-coated magic fairy wands, sequined shoes, yet more stuffed animals, etc., etc., etc.) decidedly was not. I bought the girls unfashionably many presents, and so did my parents, and so did A’s parents, and it was a blast. A bit environmentally and socially and economically wrong, but so much FUN.
Now my parents are about to arrive for a three-day visit. A has taken the girls to the airport to meet them, since we don’t all fit in one car, and I am here brewing up lamb curry and waiting. I feel like I’ve used up all my creative energy making Christmas, but at the moment it feels like it was mostly worth it.
They are home and I have no good reason for elflike. Wasn’t there an elf called Sleepy? Or were those gnomes?