Skip to main content

The Week After

We're home, back from a few days near Atlanta with my extended family. Christmas was observed almost exactly as I described it last week—the traditional meal (next year, I think I'll suggest adding a green salad to the buffet), carol singing, gift giving, Rook. We played Apples to Apples and watched Up, this year, and we laughed a lot.

My sister has a lovely armoire in her family room with drawers on the bottom and doors on the top. I'm not sure what she keeps behind those doors during the rest of the year, but at Christmas she keeps candy and nuts like you wouldn't believe. It's one of our first stops when we all show up for Christmas brunch—we can't wait to see what treats are in all the tins and boxes.

So we don't spend a fortune buying gifts for everyone, we draw names, and this year I drew the name of one of my sisters. We decided to make our gifts, so I made a scarf out of yarn made from local sheep, and I painted something sort of similar to the pasture where the sheep graze. In actuality, it's not remotely similar, but I did my best. The sister who drew my name gave me a bundle of hand-dyed batting. Apparently I can knit with it, but I'm considering having it spun into yarn so I don't make a mess of the thing. It's beautiful, and I'd hate to ruin it.

My personal family unit often takes a winter vacation between Christmas and New Year's day. We've been to Maui, taken a Caribbean cruise, been to California. This year we talked about going to Florida for a few days, but we decided to just stay put in Small Town. And what do you think we're doing instead of vacationing? We're playing Wii, and we're sitting on the couch and knitting. Yes, knitting. No. 1 is making wrist warmers, and I'm making a very long, curly scarf for her. Don't you wish you were vacationing at Scout's house? Aren't we a lot of fun? Actually, we are, and we're not the least bit disappointed that we chose to stay home.

We're also cooking vegetarian. Yesterday, I baked a loaf of banana bread with hazelnuts and chocolate chips. I made a chilled spinach dip and toasted pita bread, and we made polenta pancakes with avocado and tomato filling (more about that tomorrow).

What do you do between Christmas and New Years when the days aren't technically holidays but they don't feel like regular days, either?

Comments

kyle@sift said…
Unfortunately, we go back to work scrambling to figure out who is going to take care of Francesca while school is still out.
Miz Minka said…
What I would do between Christmas and New Years if I had my druthers: knitting while "watching" movies on DVD, or reading through my stack of Discworld novels. I'm hoping I'll be able to do that next year.

What I am doing: packing boxes and generating a huge mess because we're moving this Saturday. No rest or relaxation for the weary; and I go back to work on Monday. :(

Your in-between-holidays activities sound wonderful, even with all the cooking difficulties! :)

Popular posts from this blog

No More Mr. Nice Guy

It's good to be a nice person--to say nice things, to do nice things, to write nice things--but I declare an end to the use of the word nice. Nice is what you say when you can't think of any other adjective. Someone shows you a picture of their back yard--that's nice. Someone tells you about their afternoon adventure--that's nice. Or someone describes their childhood in great detail and sometimes with painstaking effort--that's nice. It's a lazy word, and it's non-descriptive. Nice is like mashed potatoes with noodles and chicken gravy all in a big pile on one plate with some canned corn for garnish. Everything is the same color and texture and base substance--starch (this is a favorite Amish dish). Nice is like a partly cloudy day in April when outside feels like inside, and you can't tell a difference between the lighting and the temperature of your living room and the lighting and temperature of your front yard. Nice is a glass of lukewarm water. ...

Ish People

Tell an Ish person to show up around 9 a.m., and you'll see them somewhere around 9 a.m. Tell them to show up at 9ish, and you'll see them anywhere from 9:05 to 9:20. You have given them license to dilly dally, and who wouldn't take advantage of that? The other night at the big shindig dinner party, one of the drummers said the rehearsal the next morning would begin at 9ish. "I am an ish person," he says. Immediately the clanker goes off in my head--oh, good, I thought. I can deliver my daughter a little late. No Ish person is early, so if you say 9ish, that does not mean give or take 5, 10, 15 minutes. It's exclusively a taking phrase. Take an extra 10 minutes to drink your cup of coffee. We won't mind. We're Ish people. Sunday's rehearsal started at 2:00. Because it was conducted by the same people who conducted the Saturday rehearsal, my understanding was 2-ISH. My daughter is worse than I am about taking liberties with Ish time frames, so she d...

Long Live Anita Bowser

You know I occasionally check my hometown newspaper's website to scan the obituaries (morbid, I know, but I'm at that age). Over this past weekend, I read the obituary of Indiana State Senator Anita Bowser . She was a noted Democrat who championed causes protecting the neediest in the state's population. She was respected on both sides of the aisle for her intelligence and plain and outspoken approach to law making. The picture on her senate page is lovely. I remember none of those things about Anita Bowser . My first year or so in college was spent at a branch of Purdue University, and in the early 80s, Anita was a political science professor. She taught my American Government class my freshman year, and she was a mess. Somewhere in my old text book, I have a sketch of her drawn on a particularly dull day in class--her hose sagged at her ankles, her slip showed at least half an inch all the way around, her hair had been slept on but not brushed, and her bright red lip stic...