December 12th

After bouncing around such weighty issues as candles and stoves and food prep and who knows what else, Ed and I have reached a new, wonderful level of calm and quiet understanding. And love. It's always like that, isn't it? When you get into a tailspin, you either perish or come out stronger. We've always chosen to hang on and ride out the turbulence and it has always (knock on wood) served us well. We are older and wiser and we know what's at stake! 

No, the stove issue is not resolved. No, I'm not lighting anymore candles this year or next. No, I'm not changing my cooking methods. Nonetheless, we are happily putting all that aside for now and focusing on other stuff. Like the fact that it is the middle of December, and the sun is out, and our house is so softly warm -- not too hot, not too cold, just perfect. 

My travel turbulence remains on high alert, however. I am considering a major change to a forthcoming trip and I honestly stayed up most of the night trying to figure out how to accomplish it. (It's complicated!!) I'm beginning to think that I spend more time on travel planning and rearranging than I do on the actual travel itself! I am always happy that I start in early, many many months in advance of a trip, because I do nab good airfares that way. But then I get inspired to move things around and from that base the trip wiggles and shifts and morphs into something else. This has been the pattern, and it is one I deeply like.

All this talk of cooking and traveling has really deprived me of needed sleep, so once again I'm not exactly high energy in the morning. (Usually this is my most productive set of hours.) I walk to feed the animals, noting that the feeding station had been disturbed at night, so once again we are on predator alert. 

Chickens in the barn, five cats in the sheep shed, one cat on the porch, one cat at the farmhouse. Done.

Then I cook up a breakfast for Ed and myself. He's working again at the machine shop today, learning some new technology or other. It's a filling and nourishing morning meal today, for the both of us.

There followed the tumult of redesign (of a trip) and very quickly it was noon and I realized my movement for the day had amounted to me moving my fingers across a computer keyboard and nothing more than that.

So I walk. Reluctantly. We're at freezing once again. The silver lining? Brilliant sunshine. Now, if only there'd be snow on the ground...

And in the afternoon, I pick up the kids, 

... but we do something different: we pick up some cookies at Clasen's... 

... and take them over to my mother's place. I think she has been lusting for chocolate covered gingerbread. Mission accomplished!

Evening: a cat fight outside, total peace inside. I have yet to figure out how to prevent these occasional feline skirmishes. I step outside, I shout a few obscenities at them, eventually the night calm is there, for all of us.

December 11th

You know how everyone's keen on choosing the "word of the year?" How Oxford Dictionaries picked "rizz" for 2023 (but dont get bummed if you haven't heard it, because they picked "goblin mode" for 2022 and I swear I never heard that one uttered once that whole year)? Well, I do believe that if you write a blog every day, you are entitled to pick a word as well. I have one for December 2023! Ocean hereby proclaims it to be "burning."

*     *     *

Very early this morning, before there is even a hint of dawn, Ed and I are lost in our world of computer searches. And I am thinking -- I do so love the phrase "mixed blessing." It's as if a divine being has bestowed on you a gift beyond all gifts, a blessing, but has also placed hot burning coals in your path toward realizing its bounty.

Ed's newfound interest in my oven and stove top troubles is a mixed blessing.

To recap -- the farmhouse stove top is gas powered and it is unvented, so that we are guaranteed a steady flow of particles into the air. "We" perhaps is the wrong designation. 99.9% of stove top cooking is done by me. (Ed is a committed micro-waver.) We've compensated by running an air purifier and by purchasing an electric induction burner. Nonetheless, last night I had, in addition to the induction burner, four gas burners going. Sunday dinners are like that. 

Additionally, we are struggling with the oven's problems, which I've groaned about since we purchased the damn thing twelve years ago. It's now being addressed by Ed as he mobilizes his energies to finding quirky solutions to solve the irregular heating patterns. 

Do you cook big meals for your tribe? Have you been doing it for more than half a century? And maybe you're skilled? Like, for example, maybe your city's high end restaurant hired you to cook with them for several years? Followed by baking with them for yet another set of year? In other words, you're not a dunce in the kitchen maybe? And just one more thing: maybe your partner has never, ever cooked a dinner for a group of people in his 73 years of life? Maybe he's a little idiosyncratic in his tastes, too? Like dumping Chalula spicy Mexican sauce on his dinner every single night and adding raw onion to it as well? So, quirky, maybe? 

Well now, you tell me how good is it to have said person standing over your shoulder while you're working five pots on all those burners, telling you things like "put a lid on the pasta!" "lower the boil!" "decrease the water in that pot!" because said person wants to show you how there are ways to decrease particles in the air, and you've been doing it all wrong and by the way, here's an article on the internet, on the internet no less, telling you that you dont need much water or a rolling boil for pasta after all!

That was yesterday, though the article showed up in my inbox this morning. Off to a good start!

*     *     *

I fed the animals in a rush...

I had an early morning appointment with my allergist. He wants to strike that line from my medical charts ("allergic to penicillin"), because he thinks it was a faulty conclusion, made many decades ago, and I may someday need penicillin, and it's best to have it as an option when all bacterial hell breaks loose.

While in his office, swallowing one tablet of amoxicillin after another, I chatted about allergies. I told him about Ed's allergic asthmatic reaction to my beloved winter candles. He laughed and said: "two things: first of all, my wife loves the scented candles and every once in a while I gag on a fragrance she burns. So, I know the feeling. But, without knowing your partner, I am going to venture to say anyway that he is not having an allergic asthmatic reaction. He likely has vocal cord dysfunction and it likely makes him somewhat sensitive to certain smells. It feels like asthma, but it's not. You think your breathing is constricted and you rasp, but it really is not the same as asthma, nor an allergy."

So I ask -- is it the candle or the fragrance that's the problem? And he tells me -- almost for sure the specific fragrance. Candles, unless they're made of some toxic stuff, aren't going to do that to you. 

Bottom line: I am not allergic to penicillin and Ed is likely not allergic to the burning of candles. 

*     *     *

An allergy test takes time, so I eat breakfast very late and without Ed, who is working with his machines today.

And it's an especially unhealthy, sweet breakfast and I don't care! I'm in that kind of a mood.

*     *     *

Last night, as Ed threw out solutions to fix the oven problem (put bricks inside, call the manufacturer, etc etc) and I was cleaning up after the dinner, thereby losing my patience by the minute, he saw my exasperation and said -- okay, just get a new oven. We're done.

The last time he said this ("just do it") was when I wanted to get a couple of pigmy goats. He was so opposed to the idea that he went along, physically went along, accompanying me to goat farms, searching out goats for sale. But he was not on board in spirit. And he knew I would come across a stumbling block which I would not be able or willing to overcome and the project would fizzle and that is exactly what happened. I could not get a fence up on time for the arrival of the goats on which I had actually placed a deposit. I could not put up a fence by myself. I could not build a shack for them. Not without spending great sums of money which I do not have. So, no goats.

I swear that this was his strategy with the stove. To swap out the gas for the electric, we would need to rewire. We would need to get rid of this stove. We would have to find in a timely fashion the new one and have it here and installed without a glitch. All this would cost lots of money and time and it is not a project I would want to carry out on my own.

So, our burning issues have dominated our December discussions and, therefore, my Ocean posts. Do I even realize that it's December 11th, just two weeks before Christmas Day??

I wrap two more gifts and put on the music really really loudly. The cats run upstairs and lock themselves (figuratively) in the bedroom.

*     *     *

In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. What a breath of fresh air! My attention focuses on her and her joys and woes (no woes today). 

*     *     *

Food preparation this evening is all about leftovers and the microwave. Smooth sailing. We do not have to talk about burning particles and erratic temperatures. 

In the meantime, Ed is with his detective tools, sticking bricks in the oven, measuring, counting. And then -- I know how to fix the particles problem! You boil the water on the induction burner. Put in the pasta. Take it off the burner. It'll keep on cooking! Put on your next pot, heat it up, take it off. We'll get some cozies to cover the pots. You move them around. That way, you dont have to use the gas burners at all. 

He got no smile out of me for that one. Not until later, when we were done with the burning subject of...stoves. 

With so much love...

December 10th

Well that was one unusual morning!

Up as always, 7:30-ish. Shower, tidy, head out to feed the animals. And I say to Ed -- you know, I may as well go to Whole Foods on this last day that it's open in its old location. When I stopped by a couple of days ago just to take a look, the clerk told me they're planning a (secret, spread only by word of mouth) closeout sale today. 50% off of EVERYTHING, to empty out the shelves. Only he said that everything will go quickly, so I should aim to be there soon. We need more fruit...

Go now. I'll feed the animals. (This from Ed.)

(in the driveway, ready to pull out...)

I'm at the store at 8:05, so just five minutes after its opening. There is not a single parking space available in the lot. 

I park up the hill, in the residential blocks and walk down, grabbing a cart along the way. I enter.

There is a a buzz in the air. A huge buzz! If you know this particular store, you'll agree with me that it has never been well suited for large grocery carts. The aisles are narrow, things are rather close. Well now! Pack all available carts into that store, inject some energy into the shoppers and it's like Times Square in New York and Oktoberfest in Austria, all rolled into one! 

I'm here for the fruits, but, too for foods for the next few days, as the new store wont be opening until later in the week. But now that I'm inside, I, too, want those sales! Frozen shrimp -- plunk, one container, and another. Organic canola oil? For sure! I see that in the ten minutes of being open, all olive oils are gone! I go up the aisles and fill the cart. Carefully systematically. Comte cheese? Plunk. Milk cartons. Make that two. Plunk, plunk. Bacon for family gathering, yogurts for breakfast. Spices! Let's get some spices! Cinnamon, coriander, vanilla extract. Plunk, plunk, plunk. Laundry detergent! Walnut butter! Expensive stuff that suddenly is so much more reasonable. Yogurts, flowers, so many fruits, lettuces, beans. Excuse me, while I maneuver the cart here. Oh no, that's my fault, so sorry, this way!

What do I notice? That everyone is so very happy! I try to explain this later to Ed -- this sudden gift of expensive food being made inexpensive. Less, by far than the big box supermarkets, just on this one day, before the holidays, when everyone's food needs are so over the top -- a gift of all the food you want, at half price. It's an incredible boost to the spirit!

Ed says  -- if people spent that same time searching out cheaper phone prices, cheaper services and things that they need on a regular basis, they'd save more money.

But that's not the point! You're let loose in a grocery store where you can have anything, anything at all for half price! It's such a gift!

[I am well aware of the fact that in doing this only by word of mouth, they're bringing in today their in-person customer base -- hardly the people who most need a severe grocery discount. Still, had there been a public announcement, the store would have been overwhelmed to the point that no one would have been very happy and I'm sure they want to keep their steady base tickled pink so that these people will come to shop in their new store. Such is capitalism! At least no special password or secret handshake was required. Whoever came, got the discount. Donations were collected for the food bank, I'll give them that. You would have had to have been an utter ass to save big and not give a bunch, as you gloated over your haul.]

And now comes the reality of the long check-out line. What I have always loved about this particular Whole Foods is that the store is run really well. The employees are well trained and they are on good terms with each other and therefore with you as well. And that organization and management did this day well too. A very cheerful person snaked the checkout line all around the store (there must have been 100 full carts waiting at any one time). It went quickly enough and as you passed shelves, you threw in more stuff into your cart! Aluminum foil, cupcake papers, corn tortillas. Yes, I need those too! Cholula hot sauce for Ed. And flowers! More apples! Let me throw in another bag of apples. 

And finally, I am done.

As I walk over to get the car, I see that latecomers have formed a very, very long line now just to get in the store.  My early arrival, indeed my very knowledge of this massive closeout sale was just happenstance. I had gone to get a body kneading and pounding and I had stopped in, learned of the sale, and this morning, Ed took care of the animals. And now I'm leaving with a car packed with groceries. Half price.

At home, over breakfast...

... I tell Ed that I have missed grocery shopping for us. I've mentioned here that I haven't done it in person since Covid struck in March. I dont enjoy the long car ride (17 minutes, each way), when I already spend so much time shuttling kids and myself into town, back to the farmette, into town, back to the farmette. But picking out foods for the week? Turns out I have, in fact, missed that. I have never worked off a grocery list. Not since Ed and I have been together. I merely walk, look and decide. The store is small enough that just by looking, I remember what I need for the week. (Holidays have been the exception: I definitely needed lists for Thanksgiving and Christmas!) I liked imagining meals right there in the store. I liked looking at produce and seeing what is bountiful and what is really a seasonal afterthought. 

The question is -- will I go back to shopping now? When the new store opens? I dont know. With so little free time in my week, it seems like a waste of it. And yet...

In the evening the young family is here for dinner. Last one before the holidays! Everyone is feeling bouncy. Mostly in a good way!

(settling down with a book...)

(silliness percolates again...)

After they leave, I clean up and guess what -- I resolve issues that had plagued me all day yesterday. I make the travel changes. I'm happy. And Ed's struggles with our faltering oven? That's a less straightforward story. We've reached that point where he is exasperated with my impatience and I am impatient with his exasperation. He has at least three things he'd like to try as I bake and see what happens. Guess who does not want to go through a season of baking flops before we finally give up on the oven and admit that it is an unfixable dud? 

An impasse, to be sure. In many ways, I feel for Ed: the stove lights up, gives heat. What more could you ask for! At the moment, I'm going along with weird fixes -- like placing a pizza stone on the bottom. Not sure why that would shrink the dead band, but I have no objection to trying. For now. Do I want a new range? Yes.. Will we get one? Our track record for "new and improved" is not good, but I cannot tell what 2024 will bring.

(three cats a-sleeping...)

With love...

December 9th

I have to say, many would regard this day of mine as a bust. I have nothing to show for it. A job I assigned for myself took about 8 hours and amounted to big miss: I did not accomplish the goal of fixing a technical issue in one of my trip itineraries. Bummer, you say? Not really! I thoroughly enjoyed trying to fix it! It's as if I was already navigating airports, train stations and coffee shops (which featured prominently in my adjustment plans). Will I try again tomorrow? Or the next day? Probably not. This was my last free day for... a long long time! 

Ed, too, immersed himself in trying to fix something. Basically, he wanted to know what the hell is going on with our oven. It's never baked things well, despite the fact that I inserted a thermometer in there to see if it really heated to the temperature that was indicated on the nob. Well, equipped with his best Sherlockian detective skills and devices (a watch and a faultless thermometer), Ed has indeed unraveled the issue: the dead band -- meaning the interval between when the oven first heats to a certain number and when it goes on to reheat to that number after a pause, is too long and the temperature drops a whopping 100 degrees in the interim. This is why for years, my cakes have required an excessive baking time, way longer than the recipe asks of them. Of course, the results are imperfect: too crusty on the outside as we all wait for the inside to be done. It's not a problem for muffins or cookies, but it is a huge problem for breads and especially cakes. 

Like for my travel technicalities, there is no easy fix for the oven problem. (My idea -- get a new oven, preferably an electric one -- is not going to play well in this neck of the woods where we, or should I say Ed, are, is, loathsome to swap out an old item for a new one. But, as with my travel stuff, this was not a wasted day. We learned something! And, too, I feel like all those cake imperfections I've struggled with in recent years have a ready explanation. It's good to know what's wrong, even if the fix isn't obvious.

All this may lead you to believe that the day was unusual and exasperating. Neither is true. I still fed the animals...

And we ate breakfast together  -- fruits and croissants (I did my run to the bakery!), along with the delicious cherry bourbon jam we'd picked up in Sun Prairie several weeks ago.

And very soon after, we took a walk in our local county park. We went early because I knew, I knew that I would lose myself in travel details and once that happened, I would not want to take a break until I was done. 

We were surprised to see a thin layer of ice on a part of Lake Waubesa. You can see it because the ducks and geese are actually on top of it! Sure, it's December, but we had had a warm up yesterday. Today as well -- it's not below freezing. I have to attribute it to our super cold nights. Which are only getting colder in the days to come.

Evening? Oh, really lovely. Warm, with our easy supper and a continuation of the new series I'd picked up on our streaming device (we have two free months of Apple TV+, so if you have recommendations before I ditch the service, let me know!). 

And yes, the tree twinkled and the music occasionally played and the cats went in and out and we were all as content as two bears buried in a den on a winter's day. Snug and yes, very cozy.

with love...

December 8th

Motivation is a funny thing: it sometimes lies dormant, waiting for who knows what. A nudge maybe? A nag? But there is, too, the instant, revelatory awakening: I want to do this now! It's brilliant! When can I get started? It comes unexpected, out of the blue, maybe from some words you've read in a book, or some photo you've spotted. This is it! I'm on it!

I wouldn't have thought that this day was going to be big on motivation. Neither Ed nor I slept a lot, though for different reasons. We'd gone to bed frustrated with each other over some misstatements and thoughtless gestures (it seemed to be a day for this!) and suddenly sleep was elusive. Both of us stayed on the internet far too long and got up far too early. No longer brittle but rather spent from the sheer exhaustion of trying to get out of a sticky mess. 

Still, it is the day for great weather. We both want to dive into it, though separately: he wants a long bike ride, I want a short one, preferably cutting through to a forest where all is quiet and calm.

But first, to the barn. To feed the whole lot of animals.

And breakfast. Without Ed, but only because I felt sorry for him and his sleep deprivation, so I did not wake him when he dozed off this morning.

And this is when motivation struck. I picked up a cookbook -- one I cannot mention because one Ocean reader can expect to see it underneath his or her Christmas tree. I leafed through it. It struck me that it was the most perfect cookbook I'd ever seen (at least in recent memory). I wanted to bake and eat most of the items in it. The author and I are, in other words, on the same page in terms of what we like to eat. I'd been drifting with my cooking and baking for a while now. In my opinion, it has lacked focus. For good reason! Ed is unpredictable in his likes and dislikes, the kids are even more unpredictable -- what's a person to do? 

This one book clarified things for me and it also allowed me to focus my travels going forward (we're talking about really going forward, since the next four trips have long been in place for me). I suddenly have goals. And ideas. And when you're motivated, the patterns begin to look absurdly simple and reachable, and clarity (however temporarily) takes hold.

Of course, this is all in my head and I'm sure the burst of energy that's with me now will dissipate, possibly by the afternoon as my sleepless night will come to haunt me. But this morning I move ahead with purpose. And it feels grand.

(my bike ride)

Afternoon. I pick up the kids at school and hustle them through our routines. Normally this is the day for me to get them to their lessons, but today my daughter has a work holiday party to which kids are invited, so we read, play, eat quickly. I need to get them to campus in time for the festivities.

I could attend as well, either as a retired prof, or as "family" of my daughter, but I've let go of nearly all my law school connections by now. I'm leaving that platform to my daughter's generation of faculty. Still, I peek in with just a smidgen of curiosity. Big parties with platters of good food... I remember that world! I even remember having fun attending. Sure, always the last to arrive and the first to leave, but still, I did attend! Decades ago! (Has it really been that long since I retired? It'll be ten years come January. Remarkable.)

Evening. Still on leftovers for supper, still happy to be home, not anywhere else, just on our couch, clicking through shows to see if anything will catch. Under a quilt that belonged to my daughters when they were little. Our idea of a perfect evening together.

with love...

December 7th

Today, I step out of the December routines. First of all, the weather: it's sunny, with an expected afternoon  high of 51F (10.5C). This is remarkable! We need to take advantage of the break in winter drearies. I'll get back to that in a sec. Secondly, I'd booked a body pounding, muscle and joint kneading that promises to put new life into me for at least... a few hours! I love a good massage for many reasons and wish I could afford one on a regular basis, but the occasional one is good too -- it really does wonders for your stiffening movements. So, today I have my special plunge into a serious therapeutic kneading session.

But first, the animals.

(That's Pancake, our most feral cat. S/he is not allowed inside. The other cats see to that, and frankly -- so do we. Not spayed, not vaccinated and very skittish.)

And breakfast.

And a look at the tree, which gets a few minutes of sunshine from a distant window.

And now for our escape into the beauty of the day. Out come the bikes! We do a morning ride (because of my noon appointment), which is at once very delightful, but also still on the cool side. We're only at 40F (4C). But it's sunny and thus exceptionally thrilling!

And now the massage, which is the real deal -- a kneading by a guy who knows his stuff well. None of the soft music and froufrou details that spas tend to emphasize. This is all about making the body work better.

It so happens that the masseuse works in a room across the street from my grocery store. The store that has the reputation of ripping your budget to shreds, but nonetheless I have loyally loved it since the day it opened back in 1996, shopping there regularly, until March, 2020. I stopped going there then and reluctantly switched to online ordering and home delivery. I swore I would never go down that path, but Covid was real and so I gave up in-person buying.

I'd not entered the store since that last day in mid March, nearly four years ago. I dont know why. It's as if I felt robbed out of grocery selection by Covid. But, the store is moving to another location next week and here I am, just across the street today, and it seems that for all those years of shopping here, I ought to walk through the aisles one more time, no?

I do that. I dont buy anything. I just look and I remember. The pre-Covid years. The holiday shopping that would fill the cart. The careful sale searching, to make peace with the prices. Realizing that every dollar I spent here took away a dollar from the girls' college fund. And still, food matters. Forget the nicer clothes, the newer TV. But pay attention to the food. I sorted and touched produce -- to get that very best asparagus or box of strawberries. I read every cheese label and learned about cheeses I'd not heard of. I fussed about a fish selection. All those years of loving it, relieving me of the big supermarket grocery aisles that are so boxy and anomic, presenting me with produce selection that was mostly good. Fish that were mostly sustainably sourced. This stuff mattered to me and so I kept going back, in between trips to those big box stores for the staples. I learned to read labels here. I learned to care where food came from. Sure, call it a corporate chain -- but back in the day, I was grateful that we had it to teach me how to shop. This and the farmers market -- also not cheap, because guess what: small scale farming and organic growing are not cheap. Ask my CSA farmers. If we don't support them, who will?

I drive from there to a coffee shop, which is a little antithetical to a massage, but still, I love that second dose of caffeine! From there, straight to the kids' school. It's not an easy pickup. The girl has worries (because a friend said something dumb, but it triggered a worry), the boy is weighed down by the enormity of life and blurts out something that, too, triggers an unfortunate reaction. Typical stuff that comes up at the end of a long day.

(No photo of the boy yet -- he's slumping in the back seat)

We work through all of it. Nothing like food and farmhouse calm to align the stars once again!

In the evening, it's back to leftovers for supper. Along with a real high point: the eighth and last episode of the series we'd been watching -- Lessons in Chemistry. This time the movie is as good as the book. I mean, it's just a story, people, but it's a good one to tune into 8 nights in a row.

So yes, an unusual day, but oh, with such stellar moments and resolutions! And the warm weather continues into tomorrow. How awesome is that!

Happy Hanukkah to all my friends and readers who celebrate this special day.

with love...

December 6th

Can I interest you in a pot of crazy blooming orchids from the sheep shed? Way better than the dark landscape on this cold December morning.

I'd purchased the orchid plants many, many years ago. When Ed and I first began to spend our days together. There was an orchid shop on the way to the place where his machines were sold and on the occasions when I would tag along to see some aspect of his machine world, I'd coax him into stopping, just to look... 

Three of those original purchases are still with us and I dutifully put them outside each spring and haul them in for the winter, which is the thing you need to do to ensure a bloom. They keep outgrowing their pots and they should be split up to make smaller plants. In their current state, they could not possibly overwinter in the farmhouse -- they'd block the light from the windows. So they stay at the sheep shed, happy as can be. I visit them each morning when I feed five out of the seven cats who eat here. (The remaining two cats are difficult and require special handling elsewhere.) Beautiful flowers that last and last...

Breakfast is of course at the farmhouse. 

And what do we do during this meal? We talk about dinner. With good reason! A few weeks ago, Ed had come across a review of a recently opened restaurant. Everyone loves the place. It's impossible to get a reservation! Insofar as the two of us eat out, we typically either go to Sardine -- a beloved restaurant on the shores of Lake Monona, or we head out to the Monroe Street neighborhood for more homey choices. This new restaurant (Lallande) is on Monroe and I suppose this was a strike in its favor because both of us were enthusiastic to try it. A rare confluence of curiosity and desires for him, for me.  We booked a table for tonight.

In the meantime, we are in for a small warmup. Probably the last one for a while. This is good news as we've grown terribly slack in our movements. We're planning to make up for it! Tomorrow! 

In other holiday news, I'm tracking the celebrations of those across the ocean right now because today is St. Nicholas Day and in Poland at least, kids do get presents on this day. A double whammy! Christmas and St Nick's (called "Mikolajki" in Polish)! The trick is, I think to be thoughtful but to aim small. In the same way that my grandkids love the simple Advent calendars with only a picture behind the numbered tab, so, too, a sweet treat, a small stuffy, a wee something would do for these gift giving occasions. I say this even as I am wrapping rather large boxes for the kids' Christmas. Not my fault! The youngest guy likes big trucks! Next year, I'm sticking with small.

I think about all this as I start in on wrapping the adult presents (kids all done!).

Music in the background, fake candle "burning." Same songs, same routines. Only the paper changes. Some of us love the repetition of tasks this season. The tweaking, maybe improving on some, maybe simplifying others. But of course, some people do have an aversion to it. The oft repeated "too commercial" (as if our lives weren't otherwise beholden to the demand that we spend and consume, or else!), not Christian enough! Too Christian! Too conformist, too demanding, too expensive, too much forced joy. By the time you're 70, you've heard it all. You put it aside. Let others stay away if they choose. To me, December shines because of these repeated tasks that bring us closer to people we love. You dont need holidays to feel happy, but in those days when there is such a push to celebrate, if you can find some space for yourself, something to love -- foods, gifts, trees, music, gatherings, candles (!) -- you have so many choices! -- the month suddenly zips by like a bobsled on track to win a race, carrying you along with the magic of warmth and color on the darkest month of the year.

In the afternoon I pick up the kids. 

Sparrow gets lost in trying to figure out why you can't count the school days left before Christmas through counting by fives. The guy is obsessed with numbers. When told he has five minutes left to do something, he'll dance around counting very loudly to sixty, five times. Patterns, sequences -- they're his thing, in the same way that Snowdrop finds magic in words. Numbers to her are tools to solve perplexing puzzles. She likes math -- if it's not "boring" repetition. Sparrow doesn't care -- it all delights him (at least at this moment in time!).

(They're both good at arm-twisting. We go to Tati's for ice cream...)

In the evening, I pack them into the car, call Ed over and we head out, first to drop off the kids, then for our big eat out at Lallande.

Did we love it? Sure, though Ed wont ever totally commit to a place that has a limited menu. Since he ignores meat dishes and rarely picks fish, and finds most veggie plates too fussy, the options are always limited for him. He was satisfied enough with his escargot...

... and Croque Forrestiere. Me, I stayed with the monkfish stew. Delicious, though I'm glad the chef will be spending a week in Marseille this January. That city is a total eye opener in terms of what can happen when you want to put together a fabulous bouillabaisse (aka fish stew).

We drive home. It's so lovely to see colorful lights in people's yards. Someone went to the trouble (and it is trouble!) of putting them up, just for the uplift that they bring to the household, to you and me. And isn't that a lovely thing...