We are among the latest Covid victims; it's rough.
I'll be posting pictures and trip notes over the next few days as my energy level allows. Those periods of time when I'm not sleeping are rare and random, but improving every day.
Annabelle fans - not to worry, she's feeling fine and will have an updated Christmas pic of her very own pretty soon.
Abbreviated trip recap:
Viking Cruises rock. The Christmas on the Seine cruise gets high marks; a dream come true. The ship staff cannot be beat. The food is truly to die for.
People met and tribes formed on Viking Cruises are fabulous ❤ and we are missing our little tribe of "laugh a lots."
I have, in the past, blogged about people who say they hate Christmas.
I have shared my own feelings about Christmas, and about how I think people who hate it might want to consider walking away from some of the things they hate. This morning I received a note from an old friend who remembered a particular post and wanted to read it again, but couldn't find it. She remembered that it included a recipe. Digging in the Meanderings and Muses archives I wasn't able to find it either. No wonder! It was one I had written some time back for Jungle Red! Finally able to find it, I dusted it off, revised it and sent it to her. (You're welcome, Karen!) And then decided to share it here. Because Christmas can be hard. Here's my unsolicited advice. Knowing how I feel about unsolicited advice, I completely understand if you close this window right now . . . If, however, you're still here . . . I've suggested that those who dislike Christmas consider starting their own traditions that don't include those things that they find upsetting. Things like the rank commercialization and the whole "too much" thing. When did Christmas become so much about all the "stuff?!" And why do children need to have 46 beezillion gifts under the tree?!
There are years I have had to walk away from some of it. Some years there just hasn't been much money. Some years I was on my own and frankly, didn't feel there was much to celebrate. And sometimes, it's just too much.
Is it any wonder this time of the year is so hard for so many? And believe me - I do know that for many it's not simply a case of disliking Christmas and some of the commercialism. I know full well about Christmas depression and the seriousness of it. It's debilitating and scary. It affects many. And my weak little take on how to get through the holidays with a speck of sanity left is in no way meant to sound dismissive towards those who suffer what is clearly more than "Holiday Frustration."
First of all, I'm certainly not proposing anyone walk away from "all" holiday traditions. But if there are things happening that overwhelm you or bring up bad memories, why shouldn't you toss those aside? Take the holiday season to teach children "your" values - not what society pushes us into. The season is about enjoying life and the blessings we have - don't be manipulated into doing things you don't want to do just because someone else says it's the way it should be done. Not all of us want a cooking/crafting bonanza kind of holiday and prefer to keep it simple. I think many of our time honored Christmas traditions are grand. The old fashioned ones that I grew up with. I love 'em and they're dear to my heart. But some years, even those are too much.
Like decorating our home for the holidays. I love decorating of any kind, so holidays are the perfect excuse for me to just go kinda nuts. I'm a lousy gardener, which makes me kinda sad, so I leave the little bit of landscaping we do to Donald. But I can do fun "Tablescapes!" And Christmas Tablescapes are THE most fun!
IFI'm in the mood.
Some years, the Santas just stay in their box under the bed.
And it's okay.
Some years, Christmas makes an early arrival at our house. I start sneaking the Santas and a few other decorations in around Thanksgiving. A lot of the things I use to decorate with have been with us for a very long time - and many show their age, which makes me love them all the more. They're ragtag and dusty, which is sorta how I feel a lot of times, so I feel a special fondness for them.
Which is also why I understand completely that there are some years they don't really want to come out and play. So they don't.
And it's okay.
I love watching the lights on a Christmas tree. Sometimes if I can't sleep, I'll just wander into the sunroom and sit in the dark watching the lights twinkle. I enjoy our old Christmas ornaments - the ones we brought into our marriage with us, along with the ones we've picked up together on trips. I also like finding ridiculously silly things to hang on the tree.
But some years, if the mood isn't there for a tree - we just don't put one up. If things are too busy and either of us is feeling a bit stressed, the last thing we want to do is add to the stress by doing something that is supposed to be fun. And you know, it's okay. Another Christmas tradition I love is baking. And I love love love baking with my mini-bundt pans. The first round of baking has begun.
Using one of my favorite cookbooks, Bibb Jordan's "The Pound Cake Cookbook."
It's a teeny little cookbook full of the best pound cake recipes you'll find. Fruit pound cakes, chocolate pound cakes, old-fashioned pound cakes, outrageously inspired pound cakes, a cheese savory pound cake and special miniature pound cakes. yum.
I made several "Bittersweet & Orange Bundt-lette Pound Cakes"
And the baking was fun.
But, same as the tree.
There have been years when I just did not want to bake.
It just wan't fitting in with all those other things.
So I didn't.
And it was okay.
My wish for each of you is for a Happy Holiday Season - whatever it is you celebrate, I hope you celebrate it in a joyous, joyful manner. In a way that makes you and yours happy and leaves you with a feeling of grace. May it be a holiday filled with traditions, old and new, of your choosing, and one of peace.
My wish also includes this - if you or someone you love starts feeling the pressures that many feel this time of year - the feelings of loneliness, sadness, or hopelessness - reach out. There's no shame in asking for help.
My gift to each of you is Bibb Jordan's scrumptious recipe for these little mini bundts. If my name were Santa, I would deliver some to you, but, well - it's not. So I share this recipe along with a "Ho, Ho, Ho!"
Bittersweet & Orange Bundt-lette Pound Cakes
Makes 14 - 16 mini pound cakes
Ingredients:
Pam or Baker's Joy
1 1/2 sticks of butter (room temperature)
1/2 cup Crisco
3 cups of sugar
5 large eggs (room temperature)
3 cups of flour
1/4 teaspoon of salt
1/2 teaspoon of baking powder
1 cup of milk (room temperature)
6 ounces of bittersweet chocolate (nuggets or chopped - your choice)
1 Tablespoon of finely grated orange zest
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon of orange extract
Directions:
Preheat oven to 325 degrees.
Spray Bundt-lette pans with Pam or Baker's Joy. (this non-stick cooking spray is needed. The traditional method of buttering and flouring the individual molds does not work well).
Cream together the butter and Crisco on high speed until lightened in color, about 3 minutes. Gradually add the sugar and tehn continue beating for 5 minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition.
Whisk together the flour, salt, and baking powder. Add 1/3 of the flour mixture to the batter, blend well, then add 1/2 cup of the milk, blending well again. Repeat with the remaining flour and milk.
Fold in the chocolate, zest, and extracts.
Fill the Bundt-lette molds with the batter, coming to within 1/2-inch from the top. If they're over-filled they will over-flow.
Bake at 325 degrees for about 30 minutes,or until tested done.
Note: The Bundt-lettes may not brown on the top, but when turned out of the pan, they will be a golden color and look like miniature pound cakes.
Cool in the pan for 5 minutes, then turn out onto a rack and cool completely.
I remember Christmas at our house when I was growing up, of course. What I remember most - more than anything - was that it was always a time of laughter. My dad loved to laugh, and always seemed to find the humor in any situation. But for some reason, Christmas day was especially joyous to him.
He may have laughed so much 'cause I was a bit of a clown . . .
Or I may have been a bit of clown simply because I enjoyed making him laugh.
I can remember his laughter vividly - it boomed. And when he laughed, you just couldn't help but laugh along.
I still hear that wonderful laughter in my heart, and not a Christmas day has gone by since he died that I don't share a chuckle and a tear with him.
I also remember there were two very different types of gifts under the tree. Looking back, I can easily figure out which were from "Mother Santa" and which were from "Father Santa."
Now.
What do you think?
See those drums?
What mother is going to give her only daughter a set of drums for Christmas? Not mine, I can assure you. Know what I remember most about those drums? The big drum ended up with a big hole in it on Christmas day 'cause somebody played the foot pedal too hard. big sigh. I cried and cried.
And those dolls. See those dolls?
I never ever understood the whole doll thing.
They didn't talk. They didn't play. They didn't do anything but sit. Cute and Mute. But no one seemed to notice that I wasn't fond of them and I kept getting more dolls. Every year for my birthday and Christmas I would get dolls. Little bitty dolls. Big stuffed dolls. Dolls dressed to the nines and wearing high heels. I've since asked my mother if I didn't ever just say I didn't like dolls, 'cause even back then I had a tendency to speak whatever was on my mind. She says she doesn't think I did, but they did notice that they didn't get picked up and played with too often. well - that's not exactly true. The ugly homemade dolls did, and the stuffed dolls did. If it was ugly, it won a place in my heart. If it was a soft, stuffed doll, I'd drag it around everywhere. But it if was a pretty little doll, I just couldn't care less. Instead I just played with my imaginary friend that no one else could see, but they all knew about. That friend stayed around for more years than was probably healthy, actually.
THAT is another story for another day. Back to the dolls . . .
I remember trading one doll with a girlfriend for a book. Even then I was a lover of books.
Mother is one who has "pack-rat" tendencies. It's a trait I inherited in spades. She's gotten better about not saving every old ribbon and bow off our gift packages, but she used to save everything. Old report cards, old pictures (thank goodness!), old favorite dresses, and old toys. So it ended up being up to me to get rid of some of those things that had no value other than sentimental. She could not bring herself to do it, so she handed over all my "stuff" and said "do with it what you will." It was easy as pie for me to get rid of those dolls, I gotta tell you. Once they came out of the attic and into my possession, it didn't take long at all. I advertised them in the Atlanta Journal and they were sold within a few days to someone with a doll collection. He was tickled to death to get them, and could not believe what great shape they were in. Some were still safely tucked in their original boxes. I'm not sure, but I think I probably used that little windfall to buy books.
I had Tiny Tears
And I had one of these gorgeous American Beauty Toni dolls
This gal was still wearing a little pearl ring when I sold her. AND high heel shoes.
One of the dolls I did really love though was my Howdy Doody Doll.
He was fun!
I'm sure he talked to me.
sure of it.
and I had a Howdy Doody puppet.
I just loved Howdy Doody.
One year Mother dressed me up as Howdy Doody for Halloween. Actually, it wasn't much of a stretch seeing as how my hair was short and red and I had freckles and I was skinny.
Anyhoooooo . . . .
back to Christmas in Cambridge when I was a kid.
Besides receiving a lot of dolls for Christmas, the other memories that jump to mind immediately are how beautifully the town of Cambridge was decorated.
Even our fire department pulled out all the stops -
Right across the street from our apartment was Phillips Hardware, which had a huge front window. Every year Santa Claus would sit in a big comfy chair in that window and the kiddies would line up to sit on his knee to tell him what they wanted for Christmas.
And every year I'd be one of those kiddies standing in that line.
And then, when it was my turn to sit on Santa's knee I would start crying. Bawling to beat the band and flatly refused to climb up on that strange man's lap. Oddly enough, I wasn't quite that careful about men as I grew older. Oops - ANOTHER story for another time . . . . .
Christmas remained my family's favorite time of the year. Even after I moved away from Cambridge, I would still go home for the holiday. There was only one Christmas in my life that I wasn't with my mom and dad.
Now, of course, I'm all grown up, married to Donald and we share our home with Harley the Wonder Corgi. and Mother comes to our house for Christmas. and we still laugh. lots. and loudly. Dad would be proud.
