CHRISTMAS 2012

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CHRISTMAS 2012

Dark out and wind rattles the windows. Power out on the western slopes and snow is expected. We could use a little white to cover all the gray and brown. No color anywhere except, looking downtown, the street lights.

There is light in here, once I plug it in. Got a small tree that looked ok but has dropped needles since I brought it in and the branches are oddly limp. Put up colored lights around the dining room archway and they look ok but, like the tree, could be better. Too much haste and slap dash, not taking this holiday seriously.

This morning, I’ll bring up wrapping paper for the few presents I got – all on line, no shopping in stores. I did go to the supermarket yesterday and was surprised at how busy it was. Of course it was busy. Christmas is only a couple of days away and other people are out there, planning, going down lists.

At the supermarket, I follow my own list, churning through the narrow aisles, semi-dazed. “Jingle Bell Rock” is in my head after I picked Maya up from chorus last Thursday. Even  though the classroom door was closed, I could hear them rocking away, and now I’m stuck with the tune until Easter. Went to an organ concert downtown, on a gloomy afternoon, in a dark old church where I sat with my eyes closed, redesigning the front altar in my mind. A renovation has ruined the Victorian woodwork, placing an elongated white cross over everything. What were they thinking?

Right now, I’m wondering about the menu for Christmas dinner. I pulled out a can of cranberry sauce and a two packets of Jello (orange and lemon) to make a molded jelly thing, but that’s it. Maybe brisket from Amy’s cow. Squash. Cole slaw? Thought about making real cookies, not the ones from a packet. I remember ice box cookies my mother made, round, flat, with walnuts sliced through. Also, the ones from the press, squiggled on the baking sheet, decorated with sprinkles.

Fruit cake! I just read a poem by Marge Piercy about fruit cake, calling it some kind of poison, eaten by Rasputin. I am the only person who likes it and just threw one away after only a couple of bites. Ditch it or eat it. Help. I remember when my mother amassed the ingredients (all that citron!) and made little ones to give away to holiday callers.

Back then, people dropped in and sat around, sipping sherry and eating fruitcake (see above) while you showed them your presents. Those were opened and displayed for several days beneath the tree. This seems embarrassing now, but then it was what everyone did. From house to house people went, calling out greetings.

At Christmas breakfast, after presents were opened, we always had tomato juice my mother had canned late in the summer. My father would bring a bushel of tomatoes from somewhere in his travels and my mother was left to deal with them. The canned juice had a green pepper in it. I remember that.