Today is hazy. The sky is filled with white clouds. The sun is somewhere behind them. It is 40˚, just about the predicted high for the day. Yesterday I put away most of my Christmas presents. I also Swiffered the path Henry takes to the back door. It is always filled with tuffs of Henry hair. I count yesterday as industrious.

When I was a kid, I wanted to stay up until midnight so I could welcome the new year. Mostly I fell asleep before the ball fell. When I finally did make it to midnight, blowing horns and yelling, “Happy New Year!” just didn’t seem all that exciting.

This past year I lost Gracie and Maddie. I still miss those babies, but Henry is filling the void. He is a sweet, loving boy.

I don’t make resolutions. I’ve never kept any so I don’t figure to set myself up for failure so early in the new year. I don’t have any plans for this coming year. My life has settled down comfortably.

If you had asked me when I was twelve to picture myself as an adult, I think I would have come close to me now. Well-traveled would have been an easy one. I knew when I was eleven I’d travel the world. I have snapshots in my mind’s eye of wonders I have seen and amazing adventures I’ve had. I’m standing on the equator just outside Quito with a foot in each hemisphere. It is midnight sun time in Finnish Lapland and reindeer are being herded into a field. A camel is running away with me in the Sahara. I’m looking through a window an Inca looked through in Machu Picchu. I’m traveling through Russia in a train. I’m in a glider. I’m in a hot air balloon. I’m riding a mammy lorry. It’s taking me home to Bolga.

I am happy to welcome a new year. I am always hopeful it will be a better year than the old one. May it be the best year!

Happy New Year!

The day is mostly overcast. Here and there a bit of blue is peeking through the clouds. The sun is just a bright spot behind the clouds. It was chilly when I got the papers. It will stay in the 30’s today.

When I was a kid, I loved the snow. I’d spend a whole morning making forts in the piles left by the plow. I’d even eat my lunch inside the fort. The walls were icy, glasslike. I had to crawl through a tunnel on all fours to get inside. The main room was wide, and there were side tunnels off to smaller rooms. I remember one year my fort lasted longer than the snow did everywhere else.

The sidewalks on the way to school were shoveled, but I did have to walk on the street in a few places. I remember running and then sliding on the packed snow. An icy spot would sometimes do me in and down I’d go. Mostly I landed on my butt.

My father pulled our sleds behind his car on the street in front of our house. He never went fast enough for me.

I remember tobogganing at the Winchester Country Club when I was in high school. The hills were my favorites slides. Usually it was with my two best high school friends. Jimmy always took the back. He’d run and push then jump on and hope to sit. The hills were steep, and we’d sometimes go airborne. Jimmy often fell off.

One time after a storm I took a shovel and went to make some money shoveling walks. My friend Michele came with me. At one house, the snow was almost higher than we were tall. Michelle gave up after a while with little progress and went home. I stayed and finished. The lady gave me a hot chocolate with marshmallow floating across the top and paid me extra for going it alone. That was the only time I ever shoveled.

The morning is lovely with blue skies and sun. We’re in a warm day, freezing night weather cycle. It is in the 50’s now and will go down to the mid-20’s tonight. I’m just fine with that.

Everything is quiet. I haven’t been anywhere since Christmas, and I’ve been lolling about in a series of sloth days. Driven by a bit of guilt, I use my sweatshirt sleeve to clean as I walk by furniture hidden under a layer of dust, and I used the kettle to water a few plants this morning. That’s it, my entire list of semi-completed chores.

This is a boring week. Christmas is over. Nothing much is happening anywhere. I turn on my tree every night and the outside lights go on, but they are remnants of Christmas.

When I was a kid, if it was cold enough to freeze water, I’d go ice skating. The free rink was in Recreation Park. Every winter, the town put up a small building on the side of the field at the park and fenced in around it. A water truck filled the fenced area. That was the rink. I loved the little rink building. It had a wood stove to keep the hut warm and was the perfect place to take a break on one of the benches lining the inside walls. Under the benches were piles of shoes and boots. The last obstacle to going home was trying to find your pair of shoes.

I still have a pair of ice skates. I only use them for decoration. They hang off an old wooden sled outside. It has to be at least twenty years since I last skated. I didn’t enjoy the skating. It wasn’t at all what I remembered. My feet hurt.

It’s just about time for some eggnog. I’m going to use my moose mug.

No getting around it, today is an ugly winter’s day. It is rainy and windy and colder than the forecast. The dump was on my to do list today, but I’ve decided the dump can wait one more day. Cozy and comfy and warm are far more inviting.

The last few days, since Christmas, have been quiet. Yesterday I went through my presents again. I put away a couple of gifts and ate chocolate covered Devil Dogs, but the rest of my presents are still under the tree. Putting them all away is the beginning of the end.

I am watching a bad science fiction movie, bad being generous. The actors are totally unknown to me. The plots are repetitive, and the few special effects are silly. It is an almost perfect movie for me. It just needs to be in black and white.

During my first holiday season in Ghana, I went north after Christmas. With two of my friends I traveled to Ouagadougou in what is now Burkina Faso. Back then it was Upper Volta. We stayed a couple of days then took a Trans African bus to Niamey, Niger. The bus broke down. The driver, in Hausa, told me, “Ya ƙãre.” It is finished. We had to wait for another bus. By the time
we were back on the road, it was so late we ended up parked outside a post office all night as we had its mail. It was cold, desert at night during the harmattan cold. We had no blankets and no food as we had expected to be in Niamey. The driver was amazed I spoke some Hausa and had become a
bit of a friend. He shared his food and hot coffee with me and gave me a blanket. I shared it all with my friends. This second bus also broke down so, instead of waiting, we hitched to the border where we sat hoping for a ride. The border between Upper Volta and Niger was a long pole balanced on two barrels, one on each side of the road. Borders were casual back then. I got a ride and traveled on to Niamey and the Sahara. I traveled the whole of that first Christmas vacation. The last night before home, New Year’s Eve, was spent in Ouaga. I went to a party at the US ambassador’s house. It was amazing with white gloved servers and food I hadn’t seen I’d been in Africa. I drank champagne and toasted the new year. It was an unexpected and wonderful ending to the old year and to that first Christmas away from home.

It must have been a surprise to see a Wednesday posting yesterday, but I was still caught by the season and wanted to keep Christmas going just a tiny bit longer so I posted. I was having such a great day, I forgot to mention the Wednesday-Thursday switch this week.

My dance card for the rest of the week is empty. This is sort of how hibernation must feel. I’m just better situated than the bear.

Until tomorrow!

No more anticipation, the hoopla is over. Yesterday morning I opened the gifts from my sister, and yesterday afternoon I opened my stocking and gifts from my friends. Unwrapping each surprise, each wonderful gift, was great fun. There were some antique gifts: a wooden noisemaker with moving gears, an ugly Santa, old valentines like the ones we gave out as kids, and an old ladies hat perfect to wear for an afternoon tea or an evening at the theater. I wore it while I opened my other presents. The occasion seemed to lend itself to a hat.

I got the best t-shirt for Christmas. It says, “This is My Hallmark Christmas Movie Watching Shirt.” It also has a red pickup truck hauling a Christmas tree on it. I watched countless Hallmark movies this year. It didn’t matter that they had similar plots and a stable of stars reappearing in movie after movie. What matters is they all had happy endings, and that’s the best sort at Christmas time.

My plans for today are simple: hang around the house in my cozy clothes, look through my presents again and enjoy a lazy day. I’m thinking an afternoon spent reading my new book while drinking an eggnog or two might just be a perfect way to while away the day.

The afternoon is cold at 35˚, the high for the day. The winter sunshine is diffused, almost muted. It is purely for show. There is a periodic breeze, but mostly it’s a quiet day. Henry is asleep curled upon the couch.

When I was a kid, the week after Christmas, after all the excitement, was sort of boring. If we stayed inside, we’d play our new games or I’d sequester myself in my quiet bedroom to read one of my new books. If we had snow, we’d all be out sledding down the hill. If the day was warm enough, we’d use our bikes. Bedtime wasn’t defined during vacations. I went to bed when I was tired. I’d go upstairs and read myself to sleep. It was vacation so my mother never yelled up the stairs for me to turn off my light and go to sleep. I think I read forever.”

Merry Christmas,

We had fun last night constructing and decorating our gingerbread houses. My construction was not without its problems. My walls kept falling in. I’d start on the roof decorations then notice the missing wall. Finally I had to hold the walls for a while until the frosting dried. That worked. The most difficult part of the construction was not taking a bite out of the roof. The gingerbread smell was just so strong and sweet.

No papers were delivered this morning. I feel bereft. I didn’t wake up until 10 so my presents are still waiting for me under the tree. The smell of the fresh coffee is enticing me. I’m thinking a Christmas cookie is an acceptable breakfast on Christmas morning.

I wish all of you a very Merry Christmas. Thank you for staying around and being a part of Coffee all these years. Without you, I’d just be blattering.

I am still awake at 2:30. I’m not even tired. Today I made more cookies, snickerdoodles. The outsides of the cookies are brown and crisp and have a cinnamon taste. The insides are soft and taste of butter and sugar. They are wonderful cookies for Christmas time, for wintertime.

When I was a kid, my whole body shook with excitement on Christmas Eve. I wanted to go to bed when it got dark, too early my mother said. I remember sitting in my new pajamas reading A Christmas Carol in the living room by the lights of the tree. Finally I could go to bed. I didn’t fall asleep right away, but when I did fall asleep, I slept through the night into the morning, into Christmas.

I remember so many Christmas Eves when my mother and I were the only ones awake. She’d have an Irish coffee and I’d have coffee with Kahlua and Bailey’s and a bit of whipped cream on the top. Sometimes we watched a movie. I remember watching Jack Frost, a movie about a killer snowman. It was awful and sometimes oddly funny so we watched until the end. My favorite part of our Christmas Eve was when we’d open one present from each other, one perfect, special gift.

Tonight my friends and I will make our gingerbread houses. We each bought all sorts of candy to decorate our houses. I have Necco wafers, candy which looks like rocks and Lego block candy. My friend has spearmint leaves and more, but I somehow forgot what else she is bringing. Anyway, I’ll have us set up at the dining room table covered with a festive, vinyl cloth under our work spaces. They’ll be food: dips, meatballs, cheese and crackers. I love this tradition of ours.

Christmas Eve has always been the magical night. The sky is filled with stars, a blanket of stars. The air is clear and brisk. Christmas lights seem even brighter. I stay up late now.

Merry Christmas!

The day is lovely with a deep blue sky clear of any clouds. It is colder than it has been, 40˚ at best. Tonight will be in the 20’s, a winter’s night.

The cookie bake began yesterday and will continue today. The orange cookies are done. I made them last night. I’ll start with snickerdoodles today and move on to at least one more. I have a couple of choices. I’ll let you know when I’m done.

When I was a kid, my mother rationed the Christmas cookies so they’d be some left for Christmas. Mostly they were sugar cookies. We would have eaten them for breakfast if she’d have let us. Our defense? Anything goes at Christmas.

My sister greeted me this morning with, “Happy Christmas Eve Eve.” We only use that distinction for the 23rd. If not, we’d have an endless number of Happy Eve Eves.

Under my tree are wrapped Christmas presents from my sister and my friends Bill and Peg. If I were a kid again, I’d be sitting by the tree shaking each present to try and figure out what it is. Without squeezing the gifts, I know a couple. One is Starbuck’s coffee as I get some every year. They’ll also be a book and a calendar and some neat old stuff from Armadillo, a huge store with tables and tables of antiques. Moe finds the best stuff. She’s like my mother that way.

I don’t remember how old I was when clothes were welcomed as Christmas presents. When I was young, the only clothes were the new pajamas for Christmas Eve. All the rest were toys, games and books and in the big years maybe a sled or a bike. I do remember the outfit I mentioned earlier and one other as being Christmas favorites. The first, the skirt et al, was maybe when I was eleven or twelve. My second favorite outfit was when I was in high school. It was perfect. I got a pink Angora sweater and ski pants, which were slacks with loops on the bottoms to put over your feet so your pants wouldn’t ride up your legs from your boots. They were quite the fashion that year.

Now I am in my comfy clothes, perfect attire for cookie making and sipping eggnog dashed with Kahlua.

The rain is gone for now, but the grey sky threatens more. It will be warm again today, but tonight the temperature will plunge as low as 30˚, not fit weather for man nor beast, or rather Henry and me, woman and dog.

I haven’t yet begun baking. I can’t even find my cookie sheets. Some of my lesser used pans are in a container outside as I had run out of cabinet space. That’s where I thought the cookie sheets were. I was wrong. Luckily, though, I did buy two new cookie sheets. They were in the outside bin.

Today I am watching syfy. I’m taking a break from Hallmark, Lifetime, Ion and Up where every story has a happy ending. Right now I’m watching Snowmageddon. It’s Christmas time in Alaska. A snow globe has a miniature of the town inside. When something happens, like an earthquake which splits the ground, it happens in the snow globe first. The dog barks. He knows.

We have family traditions, some newer than others. Piñatas are now into the second generation. My niece, the aunt, and my nephew, the uncle, fill the piñatas for each other’s kids because I, the aunt, started it all. They also get new pajamas just as my sister’s kids did from me every Christmas Eve. My sisters make peanut butter balls just as my mother had. One of the great surprises was when, some time long after Christmas, my mother would pull peanut butter balls from the freezer. We all remember. My orange cookies were my mother’s favorite. My friend loves them too so I make them every year. My sisters and I all have live trees. Nothing beats a pine tree at Christmas. I remember walking down the stairs Christmas morning and smelling the tree before I saw it. I have some of her decorations. My mother loved Christmas. We all do because of her. We are carriers of the Christmas bug.