days of Christmas

I have before me three more days of Christmas. No no, not the theological ones that are counted toward the meetup of the wise men and baby Jesus. We have nine of those left (until the Epiphany on January 5). Mine are a continuation of our family celebration, this time with both young families here, together. We start on that today. This evening. 

In the morning, Henry and I enjoy the still balmy weather. It's dark, drizzly, March-like stuff, only without any chance of a daffodil breaking ground.

(black dog, black eyes, dark morning) 

Once again I find myself thinking this morning about Henry.

Such a gentle, affectionate dog, but with scars of his past and bit of character traits that are very much in line with his DNA markers. Protective. Not of himself, never of his food, but of his people. My job is to reassure him about this world (Henry, you're not in Dallas anymore!),  and to let him know that if a person is okay by me, they should be okay by him as well. Given his yearning for gentility, this should not be hard, but it does take time. It may seem like I've had Henry forever, but in fact, he's been in a safe home for only a little over two months. He's learned so much in a very brief period of time! But he hasn't learned everything yet. I have to remember that.

(Breakfast)

 

 

My immediate concern though is how to exercise Henry this weekend. Walks in the rain are part of the deal here: you own a dog this size, you need to give him a chance to work those muscles and release some positive hormones every day. Even if it rains. Before getting Henry, I imagined there would be days when I would take my umbrella and head out with him. No problem! I did not realize that this would not be enough -- that he would need more. So... today we go back to a dog park, in what has to be the ickiest kind of a day. Cold, wet, puddly, totally muddy and in places still slick. 

I might as well do the best one -- at least Prairie Morraine has a gravel path that can be the default for me if things get really bad. Off we go.

 

 

Despite everything, the walk for me is always good here. It takes just about an hour to do the full loop and of course, Henry runs at least three times the distance that I put in. 

 

 

 

Today he picked a Greyhound to race so I had a chance to compare the two dogs. My pooch has 0% Greyhound DNA, and indeed, there is nothing similar about the profile of these dogs -- the shape of the Greyhound head looks a bit like that of a possum to me, but don't you think their bodies are awfully alike?  

In general, I'd say Henry behaved like a puppy at the park. I can't put my finger on the defining characteristic that made me see him as so very young still, but I wasn't the only one who recognized it. Another dog owner said it as well -- he's such a pup still! 

And this is something I forget as well. With me a short time and still so very young. Three fourths of one year. He'll be on puppy food all the way until age two. So much to learn and understand in that time! 

 

 

 

In the late afternoon, Henry has to have yet another experience: I drop him off at a dog sitter's house. I still cannot leave him alone and we have our annual holiday dinner out -- with both young families, Ed and me.

I found this sitter on Rover.com and what I liked about her is that she has a fenced yard, lives nearby, and she will have another dog there as well. I figured Henry could manage that, despite the strangeness of the situation.

What I did not anticipate was Henry's reaction to seeing Julie, the sitter, standing there in the doorway, waiting for us. He sat down on the curb and would not budge. No treat, lure, cajoling words, pleadings worked. When Henry plants himself down, he anchors himself to the ground with all his might and I cannot force him to move. Eventually, Julie retreated and suggested I go straight to the back yard, where she then released her two (small) dogs. Henry is great with dogs and hewillingly acquainted himself with the pooches. Eventually they were called in and I went in the back door and he (reluctantly) followed us in.

Julie is on the older mellower slower-moving end of the continuum (like me??) and I was glad that he did not bark at her. Her home is small and full of stuff, but Henry was not interested in any of it. I think the dogs made him less anxious because Julie reported that he did just fine, albeit he placed himself by the door and waited the entire time for my return.

Meanwhile, the eleven of us celebrated the holidays at Vintage Brewing Company. 

 

I've said this before -- these gatherings are totally beautiful. I could sit and listen, and watch, and occasionally add something that's probably regarded as very ancient, for a long while. There was a time when the kids were babes and we'd go out anyway, but our attention was all on keeping the babes quiet and still. Not anymore. And tonight they really were all laughter and hugs and secret messages. The big people in the room still offered a lap or a word of encouragement to the youngest, but really, everyone was just grand! I sat at the head of the table and beamed at them all!

And then came the photo that I so love to take, which the kids arranged with their own sense of style and pazzazz.

 

 

 

I brought home a tired Henry. My pooch doesn't sleep when on alert. This evening, at home, he exhaled and fell asleep next to me on the couch. I am so so hoping that he will relax quickly with the Chicago family tomorrow. Of course, he's still the youngest of the animals and indeed of us all, so I need to adjust my expectations. Or offer a lap. Or a word of encouragement.

with so much love... 

 

the day after

In Poland, I understand this is the Second Day of Christmas. Always a holiday. A continuation of celebrations. And of course, it's Boxing Day in Great Britain -- a day when the wealthy give boxes of stuff to the lower class folk. Sort of like Scrooge waking up after Christmas and feeling the guilt. Here, in the U.S., for most Christmas loving people, the 26th is just the day after. This year, as it falls on a Friday, many businesses did choose to close, turning it into (unheard of here!) a five day vacation for its employees, just for Christmas. My doggie daycare, for instance, is closed today. 

 

Henry wakes a whole hour later. Thanks, I needed that!

It's foggy and gray and it feels wet outside. Henry doesn't mind. I suppose it seems toasty after days of Arctic air. We're to have just a couple of days above freezing. We'll plunge down again next week.

The squirrels, missing in action on the coldest days, are up and running this morning. My pooch is thrilled.

(this from our second morning walk, in daylight now)

 

 

It's ridiculous to wrap presents the day after Christmas, but this is indeed what I have to do. For the other young family. I am so grateful that all items are small! I get to it soon after breakfast.

 

 

 

Henry is doing a lot of napping. With a delicate snore that is totally adorable. Yesterday was intense for him. For all of us!

 

(a quick hug first...) 

But I know he can't have a day of this. In the afternoon I take him to Penni Klein dog park, where we meet up with Goose and his family for a good romp. 

It is not an easy walk for us, and it is one messy run for the dogs. There is ice, there are puddles, there is mud. 

I always thought that the users of this park were less scrupulous in keeping it clean, probably because it is so underused and so you can get away with not picking up after your dog. This was certainly evident today. Still, we persevered. Henry was getting very antsy at the Edge, even though I played chase the ball with him in the apartment for quite a while (the game had me crawling to retrieve his ball from under the couch, under the bed, under the table... fun!). The run with Goose is exactly what he needs.

We survive it all. Even the barreling dogs who run toward us nearly toppling the humans again and again. As we finally head toward the exit, I can see that both pooches are muddy and sweaty and one big mess, but nothing that they can't shake off as they dry. (I hope.)

 

 

 

The three kids come over to my apartment after the park adventure, for a visit while their mom goes home to get their place straightened up. 

(Waiting for Sandpiper to be dropped off at the Edge, the kids learn that -- according to the Edge management -- December 26th is candy-cane day!)

 

 

In many ways, my apartment is just not great for three kids of varying interests, ages, and play habits, especially when there is also a large, concerned dog in their midst, one who never has had to deal with people here. Still, sharing this space with others is high on my list of things to work on with Henry. Might as well start today. The one I am most watchful of is Sandpiper, who can still make Henry jumpy. The little boy's sudden movements scare him and so he barks, at the same time that Henry's barks scare Sandpiper. 

But in fact, Henry is splendidly tolerant of the chaos. And I should say, it's not that much of a chaos.

The kids know to keep it down to a dull roar! Henry is tired, but he wont sleep. He doesn't quite trust that his world wont turn upside down if he dozes off. But he is quiet. And accepting. And that absolutely thrills me.

(Sparrow takes over my camera)

 

 

And boom! Day is done. However does that happen? Wasn't it morning just minutes ago?

My dog rests most of the evening. 

 

 

 

Another full day! More to come tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after!

with so much love... 

Christmas peace

Ah, but that it would be so. Peace, like the kind I have today, here, in my home with Henry. With my family nearby. With Ed nearby. With friends just a Zoom call away. Peace at breakfast, with soft music playing. Peace on the balcony as birds fly in for their meal. Many of them. Finches, chickadees, a solitary dove. I've only ever seen mourning doves out in pairs. Why is she on her own? She stays on the balcony the longest. She watches others come and go.

 

Henry is at my bedside at 5:55. I put him off, but of course, but it's Christmas morning and you know how young ones are about waking on this day. Alright, Henry. Out we go.

The star shines brightly over our world in the early morning. My regal pup properly takes in the beauty of it all.

Inside now, we pass the lobby tree.

And then we come into our apartment. Surprise! Santa made an appearance for you, Henry Bean. Because you've been such a good dog! 

On my breakfast counter, the amaryllis has flowered! Overnight. Like some kind of Christmas prophecy, if you're one who things in those terms. My own thinking is that it was good planting timing, but mostly it was just plain luck. So much in life is just plain luck.

I cut a slice of stollen. I'm glad I have it because lacking a childhood of holiday traditions, I like to borrow those of others, and I think in Dresden Germany pretty much everyone has a stollen on their table this morning, in the same way that there was herring on most tables in Poland last night. Maybe next year I'll search out a good herring to bring for our Eve dinner, though it wont be as delicious as that which you can buy from some known fish vendors in Warsaw.

I return to my yule log project. And I just have to laugh. I tried to time this well, so I forced myself to bake the cake yesterday. It needs to cool thoroughly. I should have filled it last night, but I was just too tired after our celebrations (and my writing about our celebrations). This morning I unrolled the roll and noticed the cracks. I waited too long. By the time I prepared the filling (cream with orange peel), the sponge cake was there in pieces before me. I may be able to save it with frosting. Maybe. I could bake another this morning, but I am not that ambitious. Let's hope for that Christmas miracle to repeat itself. Or, let's just hope for luck.

 

In the late morning, I take Henry for his exercise in a dog park. At the last minute I decided to drive out to Indian Lake County Park. For variety. Like Prairie Morraine, it is about a 16 minute drive, though in the opposite direction. Unlike Prairie Morraine, this one is unfenced. It is up to you to keep your dog (reasonably) near you.

Nothing about this "adventure" was great. Well, with the exception of watching Henry run across the fields -- I always love that. It makes me feel like I have given him his freedom to fly on his own. even as he has the safety of me to come back to. (I imagine Henry had plenty of freedom on the streets of Dallas, Texas, only there was always the fear of not finding shelter or food or safety from those who could harm him.)

 

 

 

 

 

What went wrong today? I think the better question is -- what was enjoyable? 

His romp.

I cant think of anything else. The temps are hovering just above freezing, but it is unpleasantly chilly. No sun. A breeze that bites. We've had several days of up and down weather, so right now the snow is nothing to write home about. If you're dreaming of a white Christmas, let me assure you, a green one is better than this half and half: half mud and half ice. Henry got plenty dirty. I had my shoes with cleats, so the ice was manageable. The mud was just unpleasant. 

There was hardly anyone else there, which is a shame since Henry gets a better workout if he runs with other dogs. When a large family did show up with two dachshunds,  He chose this day to bark his head off at all the humans. No sweet words worked on him. He was like Marley in the book (or movie) Marley and Me. Completely without impulse control. My non aggressive sweet tempered pup sounded like a Hound of Baskerville. 

After one and a half hiking loops  (which are strange there, as some of the trail requires you to leash your dog. Nothing changes in the terrain. It's all open field. And yet. No one does it, but still, it's a bizarre walk) -- or some form of looping, I decide he's had enough and I head back toward the car. Because there is no fence, there is no signal for the dog to come to you for the last leg to the parking lot (and highway!). Henry, being in his own bubble, decided to explore the field that abuts the highway instead of coming right away on the recall. I understand this: typically I tell him it's time to go, but I give permission for one last big run. How was he to know that running toward the road was about the worst thing he could do?

Luckily, I put some oomph into my call and indicated that treats were involved, so he changed his course and came flying to me. In early training, you should never "punish" your dog by restricting his freedom or making him do something he does not want to do after he comes galloping to you on command. The last thing I cared about then was proper training. I snapped on the leash and we walked peacefully to the car.

Of course, looking back on that walk, I can reflect on the fact that Henry did nothing wrong or unpredictable. A group of strange people coming at him always sets him off. Except for the final recall, he tracked and followed me properly throughout. The mud? Not his fault obviously. 

With kids, I always had the belief that if they are to misbehave, it's better that they do it when they are still with you so you could guide them to better decisions. I suppose when Henry barks, it's an opportunity for me to teach him better manners. Far worse is the situation where he never sees strangers and therefore I maintain peace, with him, with my environment. Indeed, if I were seriously attacking the issue of barking, I'd get a string of people to come to my apartment, one after the next, so that he would learn that we can be safe even in the presence of others. Still, it's Christmas Day and if there is to be a day when you seek out peace, it's now. It's written into the songbook! Our walk was only modestly peaceful. Hey, at least he did not venture out onto the lake itself, which has thin ice and is terribly unsafe even for a nimble guy like Henry.

 

At home, the birds flood the balcony...

 

 

I return to my yule log. The one with the cracks in the bark, such that the filling is oozing out in the most unattractive manner. You know, I have made this yule log for Christmas since I clipped the first recipe out of Gourmet Magazine in 1988. I was a mere child of 35 years then! (I now use a second one out of the 2004 Bon Appetit magazine), and I have never done this stupid wrap in a damp cloth overnight before. All my yule logs have been just fine. All 37 of them. This one? Uff! 

Let's see if the ganache frosting can fix things. 

(all that's missing is the powdered sugar sprinkled lightly over it) 

 

Alright! If I never mention the cracks, they wont know. So the smaller limb can't be positioned to stand upright, so what! And in any case, their heads will be elsewhere. Christmas is about many things. Yule logs are a wee tiny fraction of one meal, that's all.

 (my daughter's cheese trays are legendary)

 

 

 

And speaking of the meal -- this will be the first Christmas dinner not cooked by me. My son-in-law has taken on the entire project. He created the menu (mushroom soup in honor of my Polishness, followed by a British inspired menu of a salmon platter, and a rack of herb-crusted lamb with duck fat roasted potatoes) and he'll do the cooking. Amazing for me. I can sit back and be a grandma, the type that nods her head and pretends she hears what the kids are saying!

 

 

 

 

 

He pulls it off beautifully! 

(a thank you hug)

 

 

The evening is splendid! The parents are probably exhausted (so much work!) but I have to think in a good way. We all had a fabulous Christmas. 

 (the two big ones are explaining the purpose of Slime to Ed; he's not buying it)

 

 

The kids are happy. I'm happy. Henry's happy.

Right Henry?

 

I hope your day was spent with loved ones, or thinking about loved ones, or making plans with loved ones. I hope you found a pocket of joy somewhere in there. And that you felt the peace that we all crave.

with so much love... 

Christmas Eve and A Comedy of Errors

Good morning all! To those who celebrate Christmas, or at least like Christmas and enjoy some of the traditions associated with it -- may your day be happy and bright. I walk on a cloud of clichés. Jingles in my head, wedged there by hours of listening to the radio in the car.

The day dawns with no particular glow to it, no brightness in the way you might understand it, but what is brightness anyway? My Henry greeted me at the usual hour, with his usual eager tail wag and lick of my hand. Eventually, the sun came up, albeit behind clouds. Bright is a state of mind, not a meteorological term. 

A photo from our early morning walk, taken inside this time. For your holiday viewing pleasure.

 

 

 

Like so many of you, I have a lot to accomplish today. It seems that mainly I need to undo mistakes made earlier. 

But first, breakfast.

And a Henry hug.

Or two.

Or three.

 

 

 

And at least a listen to the King's College service (Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols), broadcast live here at 9 a.m.. Did you know that  370 million people listen to this worldwide? They say that even some climbers of Mt Everest tune it. I didn't know you could get good reception up there, but I suppose if you climb high enough you're going to pick up signals.

As many of you know, I am not a church person. This isn't the time nor place to explain my worldview (some of it may be gleaned from the pages of my memoir, Like a Swallow, which you can still buy and read if you're the curious type), but we are on the the day of Christmas Eve, so it's hard not to mention religion or tradition, or to not address the question of why on earth I would listen to a service all the way from England, given that I do not attend services here, in my own backyard.

Someone noted that listening to this broadcast is a way of connecting to those you love, and I suppose there is some of that for me: typically, my daughters listen as well, so we form a triangle of listeners, separated by distance, by age, by many things I suppose, but not by a love of sharing something that is beautiful, even if it has a different meaning for each of us.

 

And then I begin fixing mistakes.

First, the birdhouse saga. My balcony is a mess like you wouldn't believe. That's because after getting a visit from a couple of house finches when I put up the faulty smart bird feeder (do not get a BirdBuddy, no matter what the NYTimes Wirecutter people say; get instead the way, way cheaper HiBird Pro, though this one, too, has its faults, which I will note later), I had to keep supporting those birds with seed, even though I no longer had the feeder (I sent the BirdBuddy back to Slovenia, or actually Amazon, so perhaps a landfill). I put seed on the table and now every inch of the balcony floor has seed on it.  

Today I begin a new chapter in my learning about birds: I put up the HiBird Pro. 

The installation is straightforward, in part because I already know a lot about smart bird feeders. And immediately I get message after message that there has been a visitor to my feeder, and another and another. I see that I will have to figure out how to turn off notifications, otherwise, my devices will drive me nuts! Still to solve: cut back on messages, clean up balcony.

 

Now, surely you remember my other problem? The one where I only realized two days ago that we do not have a second fondue pot even as I am to make tonight two fondues -- one with meat, the other with cheese?

Hours of searching finally got me to order one from Home Depot (online) and another from Walmart (also online -- neither place had in-store sets). Both promised delivery today, though with a note that it may be late. As in -- after dinner. Home Depot then retracted and pushed it down to late December, so I ordered a back-up from Amazon. This one too promised December 24th, but it also said by 8 pm, which is a nonstarter. 

Maybe you do not know this, but when you order a fondue set, you do not get any source of heat with it. That has to be purchased separately. Finding one that can be delivered in one day is a whole other bag of trouble. Especially when you do not really know which heat source is appropriate. Online descriptions do not tell you this. I located one that claims it's for fondues, so it might work, and Amazon promised it for a delivery last night, of all things! And it came last night. Except it came not here, but to the farmette. Maintaining two addresses for our one Amazon account has turned out to be a huge issue. Confusion abounds. Needless to say, I have to make a trip to the farmette today to pick up the fuel cans for the fondue set that I may never receive on time. 

My hopes were still with Walmart, until I saw the message today: my fondue set will come today to 1313 John Q Hammons. Damn! I remember now that early on, I had an order from Walmart -- of a photo I needed for Ed's birthday -- and I inadvertently put in that very address. I don't live at 1313 John Q Hammons. One of the digits is off in that address. The photo went to the conference center across the street from me. And now Walmart auto-filled this second purchase from them to that wrong address. The conference center is of course closed today. I tried going to the connected hotel to ask them to keep an eye out for this delivery, should it come, but Henry hated the floor there (yes, he is fussy that way) and refused to go in. Or at least to venture off the patches of carpet by the doorway. So what are the chances that I will track down this second late-arriving, wrong address given, fondue set from Walmart? Pretty slim.

All this nonsense is using up precious time -- time I need for baking for tomorrow's Christmas dinner. And here's the question: should I grate the fantastic Swiss cheeses (Gruyere and Emmental) for the fondue that may never happen?

 

In the meantime, Henry and I drive over to the farmette and pick up the fuel cans and Ed. I need to give the pooch a good run today. May as well go to the dog park next to the farmette (let's just call it Ed's dog park), which actually is a fine idea, because Henry loves Ed, and I have human company for my walk.

Henry is really feeling active today -- he has a lot of energy! -- so we make two loops.

And it is beautiful. Especially since we are wearing shoes with cleats so chances of falling and breaking bones are slim.

 

Now comes the Christmas miracle. Or two. Or three. Or maybe it's that there are often good endings to stories that start off looking like we're headed for a fiasco the size of a watermelon.

First, and least importantly, my birdhouse is not only up and running, but, too, it is beloved now not only by the house finches and chikadees, but also by a tufted titmouse (if you trust AI) and a mourning dove (I could recognize that one any day).  I've cut off the notifications, but I also understand that there's such a thing as too much of a good thing. The smart feeder takes a photo every time a bird moves on it or to it. That makes for a lot of photos to delete at the end of the day! 

The second miracle is one that really leaves me deeply satisfied. Apparently FedEx noticed that the address is nonsensical. They called me, I corrected it. Their response? Great! We will deliver it to the corrected address the next business day! So, two failed fondue deliveries. 

But there is a third.

And the third was placed in the proper place in the delivery room today at 2 p.m. You gotta love Amazon at times like these. 

There will be cheese fondue tonight.

The third miracle? Well, life in general. Dinner with the young family, watching the kids get more and more excited -- all that makes this day special, even to people like me who pick and choose traditions associated with Christmas. But then, don't we all pick and choose how to behave, what to give of ourselves, how to react to events as they unfold? 

Christmas Eve dinner.

A tray of cheeses...

 

 

 

Three is the magic number tonight. Three happy kids...

 

 

 

And three fondues, with the cheese one bubbling in its amazing little red pot. (The other one has broth for the meat dippers and also, thirdly, for the salmon chunk dippers.) Boiled potatoes, a salad, bread. Sauces for the meat. All there, in place. No fiascoes. Only deep satisfaction that it all came together in the end.

 

 

 

And three desserts that will probably carry everyone through the New Year!

 

 

 

I stick around to take their traditional Eve photo. In matching pj's. Goose included.

 

 

The two big kids console my Henry. Do you wish you had doggie pajamas as well? (I think we can all guess that Henry, while appreciating their empathetic kindness, would politely say no.) 

 

 

I leave them to their cookies for Santa. And dental floss. Sparrow read somewhere that you should leave Santa some dental floss. To keep that chuckle healthy and bright.

 

Thank you to all who have read this far. You are truly good souls, I'm sure of it.

with so much love...