Not Ho! Ho! but Ho Hum!

When everything goes smoothly, what is there to write about? This does not mean I am asking for trouble. Christmas was delightful, but wouldn’t you be eager to read more if I said the oven caught fire?

Our son John $ and neighbors Dawn and Jeff had Christmas dinner with us. From long experience, we planned a fail-safe menu. In past years almost everyone in the family sang in the choir on Christmas Day, and we were hosts for the family gathering. Since 1978 we have served a casserole called Chicken and Stuffing which could be done ahead of time. The other permanent item is my American variation of an English Christmas pudding based on Gillian’s recipe. Gillian was a dear friend who gave me her recipe in 1982 when we moved back to the US after living in England for two years. Today we also had frozen cranberry salad, spinach casserole, and a sweet potato casserole. I enjoyed our conversations, but I didn’t ask for permission to share. Dawn knows I have a blog ,which does not constitute permission. I jumped the gun recently on sharing a message and do not want to do that again.

Gifts? Do you want to know about exchanging presents? We didn’t. Well, not yet. There wasn’t time. We quickly cleaned up the kitchen after dinner, and then it was time for John and David to go to Charlotte to pick up grandson Nathaniel at the airport. The round trip will take four to six hours. That’s why I am alone in the house and free to write. There won’t be much quiet left after I finish soaking it up. We may wait until tomorrow to open gifts, depending on how tired the fellows are when they get here. Nathaniel flew from Long Island to Philadelphia and had over three hours to wait for the next flight. Christmas will be continued later.

Meanwhile, our tree waits patiently to share the gifts beneath the branches.

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Diary of a Christmas Morning

Wake Up! That was not my alarm saying that. It was the devotional for Christmas Day. I went to bed at 2 am after going to church, woke at 6, opened the devotional book as usual before my mind could race to anything else, and there was the title. Wake up! No! No! I need twice that amount of sleep, not that I ever get it.

When the alarm went off for real, I jumped out of bed and ran to the closet to see if I had wrapped that last gift. I hadn’t. It was a little gift for David. As a small child, he was the most obedient boy you could imagine. If he were offered candy, he’d say, “I’ll ask Mom if I can have that.” He is 21 years old now, and it took me by surprise that he was a gift snoop. It didn’t fit his personality. He announced the other day that he knew what was in every gift for him under the tree. I’m positive he did not disturb the wrappings. He didn’t need to. A soft, cuddly roll had to be a throw, and that tell-tale box was candy. I had warned him not to touch one thing, because he would likely have mashed it in the wrong place and torn the paper. There should be one surprise on Christmas morning! Last gift was hastily wrapped.

Already behind schedule, I rushed to the bathroom and indulged in a bit of involuntary crying. Shampoo in the eyes will do that. Warning to self: you are evidently in your second childhood. Must be time to buy baby shampoo.

I faced the mystery of the missing hose. Another bow to old age: I wear compression hose and wash them every morning. A pair was missing, not hanging in the shower where I’d put them to drip dry. They appeared when I pulled my towel from the heated towel rack. John had taken a shower, in so doing soaking the hose, so he hung them up in an alternate place. I’m used to a husband who showers regularly in the morning, not halfway through the day. I’ve had this husband for 52.5 years as of December 14, and I will never get used to unscheduled ablutions.

John and I had a quick sit-down breakfast of German Stollen, sent by our dear friend who treats us like royalty every year. It takes David several hours to become human. We let him sleep, then woke him up and pushed breakfast in his face in the car. He didn’t appear to be suffering.

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We are now home from church, and the casseroles are in the oven. On to Christmas Day!

On this wonderful day, I’m praying for the peace and joy of Christmas to fill your heart.

I’d love to hear about your day if you have time to share.

Merry Christmas!

74

My birthday has come and gone. I’m grateful that I don’t feel a day older, but maybe tomorrow I will. We began the day with a brisk walk, the brisk referring more to the temperature than the pace. Make no mistake, John can do brisk. He grew up walking in Manhattan where dawdlers do not fare well. We thought of going out to breakfast, but we needed to plan ahead so that we could finish before it was time for David to go to work. It didn’t bother me a bit to cook breakfast on my birthday. I chose my favorite – Egg MacMehrling. It was a takeoff on McDonald’s Egg McMuffin. It was the tailoring that took the time. I had sausage, while the fellows had bacon. David likes limp bacon; John prefers crisp. Their eggs were cooked in the microwave, long enough that they would have bounced if dropped on the floor. Cheddar topped their sandwiches. I had an egg over easy with pepper jack cheese. English muffins were toasted three ways – warmed for David, lightly toasted for John, and browned for me. It’s a wonder we could sit and eat at the same time.

Before we went out to dinner, the guys ducked in two supermarkets looking for the perfect chocolate cake. They succeeded. My first choice, a restaurant in Waynesville, was crowded at 7. We assumed Southerners ate early, but they didn’t when we wanted to eat late. There was another eatery I would have liked, but I couldn’t remember the name of it. We ended up at Clyde’s, a diner-type place near Walmart that we had not tried before. The food was good, though not exciting. It didn’t matter, because I knew there was chocolate fudge cake out in the car. In a way, that pressure was good, because I brought half my dinner home in a box. Did I save enough calories for that decadent cake? Of course not, but it was my birthday.

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Happy birthday to me!

Breakfast the following day was like a relative once removed. I don’t know exactly what that means in relations, but it means breakfast was moved to the next day. We headed for the Buttered Biscuit, having heard that this breakfast/lunch place was excellent. I had looked at the menu on the computer and had my mouth set for sausage and eggs with a strawberry waffle. We got there and found the windows covered in foil with a repair truck sitting before the front door. Golly! I hadn’t expected that. Thinking quickly, we asked David if it would work for us to eat at Burger King. If he hadn’t wanted to eat in his workplace, we would have thought of something else. He gave it a thumbs up. We all chose the same thing, a very large egg, bacon, sausage, and cheese sandwich. A worker on her break raised her eyebrows when she saw David, and he explained that we were his grandparents. We sat at the table next to her and chatted with her. What a hard-working young lady she was! She quit for the summer to take care of her 10 and 7-year-old brother and sister while their parents worked. With the younger ones in school again, her mother drops her off at Burger King and goes across the street to work at Ingles. I’m not clear how the young woman gets home, but she oversees the children’s homework and cooks dinner for the family. I think we had a rare peek at a family bravely struggling to make ends meet.

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A few minutes later David was working behind the counter.  Yes, David’s height is in his neck.

Using Christmas Holidays

Grandson David hit the road running. The day after he arrived here for the Christmas break, he worked two days in a row. It became three when Burger King asked him to work an extra day. He still had one more task before the semester ended, so I took a photo of him as he finished up and sent that paper. I tell you, if I contorted myself in knots like that, the undertaker wouldn’t be able to get me in a coffin.

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We were determined to tour the Biltmore mansion as soon as possible for two reasons. We wanted to see the gorgeous Christmas decorations, and David needed to see it. Almost everyone who has visited here could have opted to go, but David somehow slipped through the crack. I loved being there with him because of his enthusiasm. His first comments of “Ooooooooh! Dang! Wow!” were repeated numerous times throughout the house. The first thing you see as you get through the front door is the area with the glass ceiling.

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How I wanted to catch the moment David saw the Christmas tree in the great hall! He threw his head back to see the top, as his eyes lit up, and a wide grin spread over his face. Awe and wonderment were written all over him. That was a tree!!! Even though ours at home was the largest John has ever had, it seemed like a shrub compared to the Biltmore tree.

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On the great dining table were gingerbread houses modeled after real buildings. I didn’t pay attention to the first ones, but the church at the far end is the one the Vanderbilt family built in the village.

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We took our time going through the mansion as David drank it all in. He wanted to go through the greenhouse and garden shop, but we had an unfortunate thing happen that caused us to head home. The front bumper of the minivan caught on two spikes that were sticking up inches above the concrete curb. We jumped out to assess the damage, finding one big piece bent backwards and one side ripped from the body of the car. The situation was so tense that I forgot to take a picture of it! Now you know how bad it was! John pulled forward again to take the pressure off the bent piece, and David was able to fold it back under the car and secure it with duct tape. I got the right piece of the bumper back in place, but the connections had been torn. The fellows applied more tape, and we crept home, listening all the way for anything falling off the car. The damage is too much for the local shop to repair, and the two nearest Honda dealers are in Tennessee and South Carolina. John is thinking a collision shop is the place to start. The next time we go to Biltmore, we’ll have to make sure there is plenty of time for David to see the parts of the estate that he missed.

Lining my Nest!

I should have been more aware of Marla’s toes when I stopped to chat with her this morning. I knew the temperature was 26F when I left the house, yet I stood there talking as if it were a warm summer’s day. My sneakers have fabric uppers with mesh for air circulation, so when my feet started feeling the cold, I looked at hers. She was wearing sandals with blue socks. I’ll bet her toes matched that color! She didn’t argue when I said we’d better get going our separate ways.

I didn’t really suffer until I got down in the valley where the breeze was frigid. John would have been proud of my pace as I let my right ear take the brunt of the breeze on the way to the creek and the left on the way back. There was no dawdling today. A food service truck was parked in its usual place near the creek. On warm days we hear the refrigerator motor run. I wondered if they had a heater in the trailer to keep the food from freezing solid. When I was at the creek, John was probably driving through Pennsylvania on his way to pick up David in NY.

Right now a future guest is saying to herself, “There is no way I’m going to get dragooned into walking with Anne on a cold day, even if I have to feign death to get out of it.’

Not to worry, Karen. Any and all excuses are accepted. I checked the thermometer when I got home, and it had gone down to 23F. Note to self: wear your winter coat tomorrow if it’s close to zero. Son John $ phoned to suggest I let water drip from the faucets tonight so that the pipes don’t freeze.

I lined my nest when I sat down to read email. That area was cold, being on the north side of the house adjacent to sliding glass doors. First I braved the deck to fill the bird feeder, which they have showed appreciation for ever since. A light bulb idea popped in my head – put the cushion for the deck chair in front of the glass to keep that frigid air from attacking my toes. It was thick, colorful, and low enough so that I could see the happy birds helping themselves. It worked well! The photo shows a winter throw thrown on the chair, and that was soon over my knees.

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For birders, a list of feathered friends flocking to the feeder: cardinal, blue jay, titmouse, chickadee, junco, dove, Carolina wren, song sparrow, goldfinch, house finch, Downy woodpecker, and nuthatch.

Drizzle or Glop?

The innocent coffeecake didn’t know what hit it. I hadn’t baked with yeast in years and was pleased with the way the bread looked when it came out of the oven.

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The recipe called for putting chocolate chips on the hot bread and spreading them as they melted. I knew not to do that. One disaster with Chocolate Nut Saltines cured me. Modern chips are tough, made to hold their shape. They sat in defiance on top of candied saltines, refusing to ooze evenly. I melted the chips this time, adding a little milk to thin the mixture. I intended to drizzle it attractively over the top. It wasn’t thin enough, but I didn’t realize that. The photo didn’t lie. Chocolate had been glopped all over the coffeecake.

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Grandson David texted me that he would shortly be singing with his college choir for their service of lessons and carols. I missed the first few minutes while fumbling around to find the streaming site. He is the one on the right end, as they sang a catchy spiritual, Mary Had a Baby.

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David leaning on the 2 of 2016

One other photo shows the choir and orchestra as the audience joined in singing a carol. I admire the organist, having seen and heard her in person a number of times. It seemed fitting that she sports a glorious halo here.

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I Finished Your Sentence Again????

The defining moment was years ago when I realized I was finishing thoughts for people. If they paused looking for a word, I supplied it. Copious words are always sloshing about in my head, and that is something I cannot control. No one pointed out my presumptive habit, so it must have gotten pretty bad for me to notice it myself. I slapped a mental block on my tongue and demanded patience to wait for people to find their own words without my help. Vigilance was not easy. Folks may have noticed my tightening lips, reddening face, and bulging fish-eyes. Inner-word pressure was explosive!

While walking recently, I enjoyed a chat with neighbor Marla. I was not aware of what I was doing. I think I let her finish her sentence, but I summed up the end of her thought in two words. She moved her head a fraction, looked at me, and agreed with a “yeah”. She said, “Right. You’re a writer, aren’t you?”

She said it in the nicest possible way, so I didn’t examine it immediately. Much later it occurred to me that her words could be damnation, not praise!

Not thinking of it as a lame defense, I explained, “I love words. I love people, and I love words.”

Marla smiled, and the incident was over. I would like to reopen it one more time to apologize. With no trumpet fanfare, my old habit resurfaced. I really didn’t pay attention right away until I finished a sentence for John, and he agreed with my choice of words. Golly Pete! I must devise a new, effective tongue-tie.

Many people reading this are writers. Do any of you have a problem like mine? Have you lost friends or been banished from gatherings because words burst out unbidden? Any thoughts of commiseration or wisdom would be greatly appreciated. Meanwhile, I’ll impose a gag order on myself.

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Thanksgiving Week Pleasures

Our English friend Chris had to go back home two days after Thanksgiving. That’s when we buckled down for pumpkin time. Daughter Lise adores pumpkin, which is something she doesn’t have in Denmark. We had pumpkin cheesecake for a big family dinner the weekend before the holiday. We brought the remains home and noshed on it for days. After Chris left, I baked Lise her own pie which she graciously shared with John and me. Come to think of it, I should have let her cut our slices. That pie was gone by the time we had Logan and his family over for dinner. (Logan comes first, because he is the one readers follow avidly.) Our dessert that evening was Pumpkin Pudding Crunch, a recipe printed in the October 2015 issue of Carolina Country magazine. It was an easy recipe calling for canned pumpkin and a yellow cake mix. You don’t want to know about the sugar and butter.

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Our son John $ drops in on us regularly, but he spent several nights here to have more time with Lise. The weather was odd, warm enough that we had lunch on the porch one day and breakfast there the next. Our views were hazy with smoke from the forest fires, but we smelled burning wood only occasionally. I took a photograph of Lise at breakfast with the two horses behind her.

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We were very happy to welcome the horses back a few days before Thanksgiving. They board next door, and we have the pleasure of giving them apples. $ is the one who seems to speak their language.

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Being on the go for weeks, we missed chatting with the neighbors across the street. We also wanted to spend time with their daughter and her family, newly moved here from Istanbul. Logan was being very helpful, trying to get the baby to smile.

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When Logan’s exuberance threatened to bring on punishment, Lise asked him to read to us. He opened the pop-up book and read Twas the Night Before Christmas smoothly from start to finish. He’s only six years old! He provided his own pronunciation for about five words but read the names of Santa’s reindeer flawlessly. He is amazing.

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John went in the next room to play checkers with Logan while the rest of us chatted. They came back in the kitchen where John was preparing something for him, and the little toy camera caught Logan hanging on his elbows to watch. John said he was eyeing a candy dish which was practically under his nose. Reminder to self: move the candy before Logan comes over again.

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All too soon it was time for everyone to go home. We took Lise to the airport and came home to follow her progress via texting. She changed planes in Atlanta, had a four-hour layover in Amsterdam, and landed in Manchester to stay for the weekend before flying to Copenhagen. The past two weeks were highly satisfying to me. We gave thanks for our many blessings with lots of dear relatives and friends. Who could ask for more?

The Reluctant Guest

The turkey and leftover sides were put away, so Thanksgiving came to an end. The end of the big meal was the only dish I photographed. It’s John’s favorite cranberry mince pie. I wish I’d taken a picture of Connie’s pumpkin roll, which was as delicious as it was pretty.

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If I write one more paragraph about what a wonderful visit we had with family and friends, you’re going to think that’s all I can write about. I’ll tell about the reluctant guest in a minute. Here are two photos to show both sides of the table. John was included twice, because he needed double exposure to compensate for being slightly out of focus.

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John $, Lise, Chris, and John
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John, Marla, Connie, and Dave

We particularly enjoyed hearing Marla tell about flying airplanes and working with bicycles. I wanted to know what narrow escapes she might have had on two wheels. She told about riding on the shoulder of the road when a car slowed beside her. The thugs shouted for her to get off the road. The passenger flung his door open against her bike, which catapulted her into the ditch. All of her other tales had happy endings.

The reluctant guest was in something of a brown funk. He did not enter into the general conversation other than to bark at Marla and Dave. They made the best of it and didn’t retaliate. This fellow tended to be a bit underfoot, although he didn’t interfere with my serving. Unlike our other guests, he ate nothing but turkey. He was a bit antsy too, insisting on going outside several times for short walks. Lise , Marla, and Chris went with him to get a bit of fresh air. He managed to stay through dessert and was obviously eager to leave when the meal was over.

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Albert, the reluctant guest

Isn’t Albert, our reluctant guest, a cutie? After closing the bedroom doors, we let him have the run of the house. When he stretched out on the floor after dinner, we thought he was settling in. It didn’t last long, so Marla, now the reluctant one, took him home. We were happy that Connie and Dave could stay to visit.

Toward the end of the evening, we found out that Dennis (18) was visiting across the street and would spend the night with us. He hadn’t expected to stay and had nothing with him. He and I remembered the camo nightwear he found here when David and Nathaniel were here. It was still in David’s room, so he didn’t have to sleep in his clothes. I had gone to bed when Dennis came back to the kitchen where Lise and Chris were watching a video. From the edge of the door he said, “You can’t see me.”

Lise could see him and wondered why on earth he said that. He stepped into full view, saying, “I’m wearing camouflage, and that’s why you can’t see me.” They laughed, and all three watched the video about rednecks. It included a bit about Popcorn Sutton, the famous maker of moonshine that lived a few miles from our house. Lise said there was also a good section on railroads.

Logan and his niece Lily came to fetch Dennis the next morning. They jumped into a game of checkers before going back across the street.

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Logan, Lily, and Dennis

What meal do you have the day after the Thanksgiving feast? We ate at a Mexican restaurant in Maggie Valley, one that $ and I had been to twice before.

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Mexican restaurant — John, $, Chris, and Lise

Chris, $, and I enjoyed a spicy meal, but we found bland dishes for Lise and John. Everyone lived happily ever after, as far as I know.