Christmas at my mom's house was a roaring success. Paper flew, hugs were exchanged. Two - count 'em - two meals at the table occurred in between mandatory showings of Scrooged and A Christmas Story. And boy did my tootsie luck out. I have perpetually cold foot (genetics! Wheee!!), and am about to go on a ski trip, so the over flowing of warm socks and battery heated slippers heartened me immensely!
On Christmas take two, we were off to my Dad's for more cooking, dining, and presents (with a side of wrapping-paper carnage). To get warmed up for the holiblitz, I did a little work out. Having eschewed the concept of running in the cold (my feet go numb at the thought!), I went with the Core Rhythms (crazy Russian ballroom ladies do their version of zumba, which is a lot more technical and two hundred times more terrifying). It had a particular thrill this morning, since the end half of the dvd has fallen into disrepair, and so sometimes the screaming Russian ladies would dissolve into pixels, stutter, stagger and go dark. Oh the syncopations! to my knowledge, they did not steal my soul this time, but one of the crazy Russian ladies may have climbed out of the television set and corrected my latin motion.
Earlier discussions at Dad's house hinted at utter disaster. After preparing a thoroughly detailed list of meals, and the appurtenant ingredients, we discovered that nothing had quite gelled. I suspect a Christmas-crazed shopping panic paired with unfamiliarity with some of the listed ingredients contributing to a bit of a melt-down in the list-checking. I feel bad having cast my father into the shopping abyss like that, but he did offer. My Dad managed to grab a spaghetti squash from a pile of butternut squashes. That dealt a decisive blow to my butternut squash and apple soup, the most labor and ingredient intensive meal on the agenda.
The sweet potato latkes were stymied by a lack of sweet potatoes (which I had to confirm were in fact on the list of ingredients to purchase). The fennel, endive pomegranate salad actually had a majority of the purported ingredients, although apparently there was a paucity of "in-DYVEs" and so there was a substitution with the somewhat bitterer "Rawdukyos" and since we had plenty of splendid honeycrisp apples previously slated for the soup, we threw some of those in there. Naturally, the entire kitchen looked like something out of CSI after I dismembered the pomegranate, and my dad managed to gore himself on a food-processor attachment (not, sadly the attachment that has been thrown into the vast abyss of Andrew's car and without which the shredder/slicer blade will not work). But it was well worth the fancy salad and tons of left over apple cider and lemon juice. The boys had salmon and we just threw the spaghetti squash in the oven for an hour (then the boys buried the noddles in butter, brown sugar and salt to approximate something less vegetable-like). The meal finished off with my dad's fantastic cranberry sauce and some kind of fancy bread somebody gifted.
Andrew liked the Cranberry Sauce a lot:
The meal worked out amazingly well for all involved. My Dad and I are joking that from now on we'll have every one go to the store and buy a few random ingredients, then we'll all get together and have to figure out what we can make using a little bit of every ingredient. I think it's a new tradition that could lead to lots of fun and lots of "interesting" meals, so naturally, I'm game.
We also had a second binge of presents, always a particularly exciting endeavor when my Aunts Maggie and Angele are involved. They are the divas of fanciful whimsical and never-before-imagined goodies. I scored with books and more books and shoe themed everything. Even Karl got himself some major gifts (they have kitties who "give" my kitty gifts). And, as the evening wound down, Andrew returned to Seattle to pack and I sorted through my mammoth to-do list of pre-2013 must accomplish items (pay rent?) that are slightly complicated by the impending Tahoe trip until after the New Year.
On the day after Sockmas, my true love gave to me... a tetris game with luggage, a second day of Christmas, soft pjs and slippers, wedding invitations, besties bearing bootie, portable sunlight, double-decker dance-class, an appropriated tea mug, mother and child, my own baby tree, mad milonga jollies, nifty new nuker, a small sporting good store, one fulgent faux fir, frolicking ovines, sweet South Hill stocking , tamarins aleaping, client file kindling, eight blue bulbs, cat-nipped Advent chocolate, one impromptu date night, reams of wrapping paper, tango shoes and shoe bags, four sock santas dancing, two moosies skiing, two cobalt bands, and a loris in a pear tree
Having emerged victoriously (and well-laden with leftovers and goodies) from two straight days of Christmas, I must now turn my attention to our future ski excursion. Until now, I've mostly rented my equipment, so skiing didn't add the same luggage burdens that having your own items can present. I still don't have skis, but jamming the ski boots and helmet in my little carry-on rollers has proven a bit of a challenge. I think, after initial skepticism, that I can manage packing with some clever thinking. There will be items packed to bursting in each ski boot. There will be jumping up and down to tamp the larger bag. There will be an absurdly full carry-on, but BY GOD THERE WILL BE LUGGAGE!!!
I'm going to start by making a list and setting out everything I know I'll need and then go to work at arranging the pieces. Don't think I won't wear the helmet and ski suit onto the plane if necessary (hey safety first and fashion shortly after when you're flying!). My agenda is a mix between footwear (warm socks, warm slippers, boots, dance shoes, real shoes, more socks) and electronics (charger for kindle, charger for phone, charger for slippers...) I'm hoping I actually remember to bring, say underwear and a change of non-ski clothes. Wish me luck! I've got one more day to pack it all in before I'm off to the mountains.
Well, yesterday was my recovery day between holiday blitzes. I managed to get things packed into two bags (a little Mary Poppins magic and only a few spoons of sugar required), do loads of laundry, and write my thank you notes. Writing thank you notes is one of my favorite postludes for any event. It's my chance to really focus on each individual gift and giftee and try to articulate first for myself and then for them what they mean to me. Nothing reminds me how fortunate I am than putting it down on paper. Plus I get to relive the wrapping paper carnage!
Now, I'm ready to high tail it to San Francisco, fit in another family holiday fest and get off to the mountains. As the Sockmas chronicles cede to my next travel log, I would like to wish a fond farewell to my loris in a pear tree and all the pretty holiday socks. It's been a good holiday 2012. Thanks to every one who sang along!
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