The Ghost of Bloggers Present

Last night I was haunted by some lack-of-Christmas-blogging ghosts.  I dreamed that my favorite jeweler was moving to a new location directly across the street from my home.  I asked her if I could write about her move in my blog.  She responded with disdain, informing me that blogging isn't likely to reach much of an audience - at least my blog isn't - and she would appreciate it if I refrained from posting about her.  I then went dejectedly back home, where my four foster children were hanging out.  (No idea where my subconscious mind came up with them.)  I then asked the oldest, who was a girl of about 16, if she minded if I blogged about her.  She gave me an eye-rolling, she's-so-unhip expression, and informed me that blogspot is so 2000, and if I wanted to write about her I'd have to find a more cool medium for expression.

Telling people one's dreams is the ultimate in egotism* - my apologies.  But I surmise that I am suffering some guilt pangs for not having posted anything lately.  Have I mentioned yet my recovering Catholic, overdeveloped sense of guilt?  That, and apparently I have some deep-seated feelings of blogger inadequacy, but nevermind.

Truth to tell, after the miserably frantic bustle of the first three weeks of December, I've been enjoying the holiday time more than usual.  I have spent an inordinate amount of time in the last few days doing this:

That is, rotting in front of the fireplace, reading good books, chatting with friends and family, and just plain hangin'.  I also spent a day painting, and even watched a couple of movies, which is practically unheard of for me.

Aaaaah.

It's back to work for me this week, though.  Spouse, on the other hand, is off this week.  How jealous am I?  Then again, it was 9 degrees, gray and blowing nastily when I left for work this morning.  There were massive snow devils twirling eerily in all the farm fields on my drive into work.  So, even if I weren't at work, I would not be engaging in any grand, bloggable outdoors adventures today.  Instead, I'd be inside looking out at this:

Ick.

So, for lack of other, better writing material, I shall just provide a brief Christmas wrap up (forgive the pun):

• I'm proud of my ability to make do in a pinch.  I forgot to purchase any kind of flower arrangement for the table, so had to create one out of my own gardens at the last minute.  Some holly clippings and a trim off the old pine tree, an antique cracked cheese crock, and a scrap of ribbon, and voila!  Rustic Christmas centerpiece, for free.  As an avid gardener, it pleases me no end when I can cut things from my own garden and put them in vases in the house.

• I am absurdly pleased with my dogs, who spent the entirety of Christmas day sleeping.  I believe I've mentioned before that they seldom hold still, particularly when there's company.  They didn't even beg at the dinner table!  No, I did not sedate them with bendryl, although I have certainly considered doing that before.  Could it be that they are slowing down, now that they are approaching their 4th birthday?

• I appear thus far to have avoided gaining weight this Christmas.  This, despite my having consumed nearly an entire plum pudding in the past 5 days.  That pudding, by the way, is my single greatest Christmas triumph.  It was my first attempt at such a dessert.  Desserts are particularly complicated in my household because they need to be gluten, dairy, corn and soy free, among other things.  I also refused to use suet in making the plum pudding simply because it sort of grosses me out even to feed it to the birds.  I managed to find a recipe that called for butter instead of suet, and then substituted ghee for the butter.  But dang, even with all the substitutions, I nailed the plum pudding.  I even got it to light on fire without also lighting the table cloth.  I think my father and husband did not appreciate it as much as I did taste-wise, but my appreciation was partly inspired by nostalgia - plum pudding was my favorite dessert at Oxford during my junior year abroad.  If it didn't require about 3 hours of prep and 6 hours of boiling, I'd make it far more often.

• Finally, Santa was good to me and made a significant contribution toward my snowshoe/boots fund.  Yippee!  I shall start shopping soon... perhaps even tonight.  For any of my readers who have snowshoes, please tell me what you do and don't like about yours.  I'm fumbling completely in the dark here, and hate purchasing outdoors gear when I feel as though I am at the mercy of the sales people.   

I hope everyone else has been enjoying a little R&R, too, and is someplace warm out of the wind today.

*That's a paraphrase of something said by Lord Peter Wimsey in Dorothy L. Sayers Busman's Honeymoon.