Howard Meets Mabel, and Dinosaurs Visit Bethlehem

It's coming on dusk this cloudy Sunday afternoon.
Our Christmas lights are gone from the fence and the grape arbor, but I
asked Howard to leave the lights and pine roping around the front door.

For a little while.

C'mon in, take a look around.

Inside That Old House, it is still Epiphany, and the Three Wisemen are visiting Bethlehem.

So is a Dinosaur.

Yes, we know that humans and dinosaurs did not roam the Earth at the same time,

but with the Lord -- for whom time and space are all laid out as one -- anything is possible.

A few years ago, Anne fashioned a model dinosaur for her sister Alida, who was beginning to study

for a Ph.D. in Philosophy in California.  Anne glued all the little fiddly wood bits together,

and then covered the Dinosaur with philosophical quotes.  Dozens of them.

She added an academic stole and a mortarboard for good measure.

I'm not sure who first put the Quotasaurus in the Creche -- it might have been me --

but it's a fixture now.  Until it finally goes to live with its rightful owner.

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On Saturday, Howard removed the lights and ornaments

from the Fraser Fir Christmas tree in the sunroom.

Dion supervised.

This tree held up remarkably well, stayed perky all through the season,

and shed very few needles even as it was being dragged out the door to its doom.

It is still sad to see a beloved Christmas tree tossed to the curb.

I hope its evergreen friends who are still planted aren't taunting it.

So . . . 

this is why I wanted the door lights to stay up, and lit, just a little while longer.

I didn't have any pictures of the whole house.

Once again, I tied up the Christmas tree trimmings with red ribbon, and used that instead of a wreath

on the front door.  Because wreaths cost money, and I am (sometimes) thrifty.

The people who sold us That Old House live behind us now, in a bigger house they had built.

I still think ours is the Queen, even if only because of her age.

She does need her shutters back, though, doesn't she?

I dragged my poor husband all over creation today, buying old furniture to sell,

and a corner cupboard to use for display, for my booth at Somerville Center Antiques.

Howard is Mr. Patience, thank goodness.

He stayed calm when meeting Mabel, the giant German Shepherd, at one house way up in the hills;

Mabel didn't take kindly to strangers, let's just leave it at that.

(From the sound of her deep voice, I think ol' Mabel may have a bit of a hormone problem.)

Plus, that corner cupboard for the booth had to be carried down 3 staircases.  Or was it four?

That's it for today!  Nothing exciting.  Just a little slice of life at That Old House,

where Christmas is getting tucked back into its boxes, and we are ready for the rest of Winter.

Not.

Resolution?  Keep following the Star, with or without a Dinosaur at my side.  -- Cass

Farewell Christmas, Hola 2012

I took a look around our neighborhood late last night.
We are not the only ones with our Christmas lights still blazing.

So please, come in . . . if you can get past our fierce guard dog . . .

for a glimpse of what we've been up to this Christmas.

Which is mostly . . . eating, at least according to this post!

(Ha ha!  Just noticed the empty box leaning on the stairs.

It's already been recycled; this picture is from New Year's Eve.)

Back we go, to the week before Christmas.

When we celebrated Chanukah.

That Old House gets her money's worth out of the winter holidays, that's for sure.

For years our girls have timed their Christmas visits home

to be here for an annual Chanukah Latke dinner.

Latkes are potato pancakes, and I make the shredded kind.

 And that's all we eat at that dinner -- crispy hot latkes, with sour cream and applesauce.

Most of the traditional Chanukah foods are fried in oil,

and I am sure you know why.  Oil.  Lamps.  The miracle of the 8 nights.  

I make a mean potato latke, if I do say so myself.

There are other ways to make them, but this is how we like them.

I've seen recipes for sweet potato latkes, celery root latkes, latkes with carrots,

and all sorts of other abominations . . . but not here.  We are potato pancake purists here.

We also light our Menorah, and everyone teases me because I insist that the Menorah, with its lit candles,

has to stand in the kitchen sink for safety's sake if we leave it burning unattended.

And this is nuts, how?

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Christmas morning, in the Parlor, and this year . . .

the joy of a third kid.  (A fourth if you count Howard.)

 A robotic arm for Howard from Anne, who has promised to help him assemble it.

Josh sporting his new hat from me, and one of his cigars from Howard.

We'll turn this one into a Jersey boy yet!

And what Dad wouldn't love to find bacon-flavored popcorn under the tree?

Howard in the sunroom, testing out the portable hammock I got him.

Have hammock, will travel to beach house.

I so wanted to see if I could fold it up with him still in it, 'cause then I'd have a portable-hammock-husband.

He was not game for this plan.

Christmas breakfast was something special.

Josh and Alida made Monkey Bread, a tradition with his family.

 And it was so good with strong coffee!

Anne made her trademark Special Waffles, which are so light you can hardly believe they are real.

Really.  They have no weight.  Therefore, they have no calories.

Later on Christmas Day, we piled in the car for the drive to Peg and Bill's house.

Peggy in her kitchen, preparing a fabulous dinner.  (It really was!)

I want her big Sub-Zero fridge and freezer, on the left.

She says I can't have them.  Sisters are so mean.

 Bill, in charge of the liquid refreshment.  Always a popular guy.

And Howard, in a new Christmas sweater, telling me to stop taking silly pictures.

 I didn't take pictures of all the "kids" as they were all wearing not just fuzzy slippers,

but questionable pajamas.

My girls and Peggy's decided years ago that if they were just going to be at one another's houses

for Christmas, they could just as well stay in their PJs and be comfy.  And that's what they do.

I love how Peggy does her mantle at Christmas.

Their Christmas tree, and the view across the foyer to their dining room.

This year there were so few "grownups" and so many "kids,"

that the kids got the dining room and we sat in the kitchen.  Ah, times change.

Ernie, the yellow Lab, filled his bed with torn wrapping paper,

and settled down for a long winter's nap with his favorite duck.

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During the holiday, Josh and Alida cooked dinner for us.

Chinese food -- the real deal.

While on their honeymoon in China in July, they took a cooking class.

It paid off.  This was so delicious!

They've promised to share the recipes, so when I get them I'll pass them along to you.

They are well worth trying.

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FRIDAY FISH FRY!

On the Friday after Christmas, my girls and I scooted west on Route 80, to a Cracker Barrel, for lunch.

Now, Cracker Barrel wouldn't have been our first choice for a Ladies' Lunch Out,

except it was Friday and that means Fish Fry.

Oh yeah.

Fried cod, mac & cheese, and stewed apples.

 Brought back memories of the old Howard Johnson's Fish Fry nights.

Well, for me, anyway.  My girls are too young to remember them.

Anne got chicken, but Alida and I got the fish.

So, how is it, Alida?

I think she likes it.

Somewhere along the way that week, I made a big lasagna.

We're talking enormous.  Turkey roasting pan size.

 Me, I like the corners of lasagna.

This one fed the family, and then some a lot of friends.

Including Alida's former college roommate Alyssa and her boyfriend Steve,

shown here posing for me before leaving for a party on New Year's Eve.

"Mom, it's freezing!  Take the picture, already!"

Kids today.  No guts.

And the litany of What-We-Cooked and What-We-Ate isn't over yet.

On the day after New Year's, another group of "kids" at the house, and a huge pot of chili.

This is half the chili, keeping hot in a Crock Pot.

Alida made the chili, using the Silver Palate recipe that I love, and she took this picture, too.

Multi-talented, that child. 

Howard and I escaped the madding crowd, and lit a fire in the parlor.

So, it was a little fire.

 That brings us to today.  Saturday, January 7th.

Christmas is over, and the season of Epiphany began yesterday.

Our Sunroom tree is slated for de-decorating this weekend, and the

long trip to the curb.  It will end its illustrious career as mulch for the county parks system.

The Parlor trees are faux,

so as my sister-in-law Doris says, "They can stay up pretty much . . . forever!"

 But they won't.  I'll peck away at them this week, and the house will lose its glimmer and glitz,

and be a Plain Jane once again.  That's OK.  I think it's time we started decorating for Groundhog Day.

Any suggestions?

I hope you all had the merriest of Christmases, and I wish you all the happiest of New Years.

May 2012 bring us joy, purpose, friendship, and uneventful weather!

God bless us, everyone.  -- Cass

Still Celebrating!

Around here, we squeeze every last bit of
Christmas out of Christmas.

So until January 6th, Ephiphany,

it is still Christmas at That Old House.

Which means there are no calories here,

and precious few chores.

Have you seen this image from the Hubble Telescope?

It's the captured image of a star being formed from gas and dust --

but it's caught the world's attention because it looks so very much like an angel.

If you don't hear some sort of soaring Christmas music, or a bit of Scripture,

in your head when you see this picture, well, I don't know what to tell you.

Gloria in excelsis Deo!

And Merry Christmas to all -- Cass

More Trees And A Lille Juleaften Greeting

Today's post is really two posts in one.
The first -- a "fresh" post, continuing a little
showcase of some of the trees at That Old House.
The second -- a revised post from one year ago,
about this special day and its significance.
(Sorry, no recipes today as promised -- too much else to write about!)

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So . . . some trees!

In the Conservatory, the fresh Fraser Fir.

A little smaller than previous years' models, but we love it nonetheless!

Like all Christmas trees, an absolute bear to photograph.  Especially in daylight.

 So -- here is one somebody took Saturday night, at our party.
Yes, Christmas trees do look better at night!

The Feather Tree, always one of my favorites.

 Love those teeny ornaments.
I did buy more this year.  Don't rat me out.

By the kitchen sink, a little wiry brass tree
from daughter Anne brightens the backsplash.

In the powder room, a little tree in a Santa Boot

sports glass Santas and other tiny glass ornaments.  

In the dining room, a spiral tree awaits a few special ornaments.

(They're coming!  Be patient!)

Upstairs, on the second floor landing, a topiary tree.

No ornaments, just the lights; it's enough.

And in the Study, the Girls' Tree, with ornaments collected over the years.
This year, when Alida returns to California, she'll take her ornaments with her.

So if you think I go a little bonkers with trees and Christmas bling,

I come by it honestly.  I am of Norwegian descent,

and we Norwegians love us a good, long, celebratory Christmastime.

Ja, you betcha!
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(From December 23, 2010, with revisions for 2011.)

Norwegians, living as they do
in some pretty grim, dark and cold December weather in Norway, make the most of Christmas.

They even have a name for this day, the day

before Christmas Eve:  Lille Julaften.

Translation:  Little Christmas Eve.

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My mother and I always called one another on Lille Julaften.

We'd compare our Julekake, or Christmas bread,
and just spend some time away from the pre-Christmas-Eve whirlwind.

Reminiscing.  Catching up.  Making plans.  Comparing menus.

My mother believed it was okay to still be baking or cleaning on Lille Julaften;

by the next day, Christmas Eve, chores were to be finished so you would be in a
calm and serene state of mind, ready for that night's church services,
and ready to settle your children down with gentle words and quiet stories.

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I miss my mother very much today,
this second Christmas without her.

Last year, I visited my Dad on the afternoon of Lille Juleaften.
But now he, too, is among the people I miss at Christmas.

Family.  Not something to be taken lightly, or for granted.
We don't have one another forever, not on this Earth.

Now I've got some baking to do; there are only a few cookies left from last week,

and one mustn't greet Santa with stale cookies!
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As you prepare your home, your family, yourself for the coming of the Christ Child,
I wish you peace and serenity, despite any last minute rushing that might be part of your holiday
this year (as it is part of mine!).  Wrap those last few gifts, bake those last few batches of cookies,
settle down to read a cozy Christmas book with your children or grandchildren,
and know that whatever gets done, or does not get done, the Greatest Gift of all is yours.
And that is forever.

I wish you a

Glaedelig Lille Julaften!

-- Cass