Last Blast of Holiday Spirit

It was crowded at the grocery store this afternoon, but despite being shoulder to shoulder in several of the aisles, all our fellow shoppers were in good spirits. Later, as we checked out, I asked the cashier about her day. "It's been busy!" she confirmed, but then added, "I like it though! Everyone is happy for the holidays!"

Bird's Eye

The wind had come up, and the temperature had dropped as we made our way home from running errands late yesterday afternoon. Above us, thousands of crows wheeled this way and that in the gale, strewn beneath gray clouds as if someone had tossed a handful of pepper into the sky.

"Do you think they like it when they fly in the wind like that?" I asked Heidi. "Is it exhilarating or is it a struggle?"

She shrugged pensively.

"It's so stunning to see," I said. "I hope it's as thrilling to perform."

Against My Better Judgment

I didn't look carefully at the theater map when I selected our seats.

And so when we sat down three rows from the screen in a traditional, non-recliner theater, we had to crane our necks to take in the whole screen. As the previews elapsed and the feature's start grew nearer, Heidi and I both looked around for a couple of empty seats a little further from the screen that we could nab. 

When we saw a bunch in the very back row, I was tempted, but I insisted on checking my app first to see if they had been reserved. Luck was on our side, but it was still with some hesitance that I followed Heidi to slip quietly back there as the lights dimmed. 

Wouldn't you know it? A couple of minutes into the movie, a group of five trooped into the theater, using their phones as flashlights and noisily checking their paper stubs for their assigned seats. Of course, we were in them, and we fessed up right away to avoid further confusion and distraction from the movie. 

"No worries!" boomed the mom when we whispered our apologies for taking the unclaimed seats. "I do that all the time!" We crossed our fingers and took the last seats at the end of the row, and as her kids trooped up and down the stairs every ten minutes or so, I could certainly believe it.

2025 Christmas Cookies In and Out

In: 

Mandelbrot, 3 batches (light and crispy, never too sweet)

Out:

Rugelach, 0 batches (very conflicted feelings about this)

Holding steady:

Russian Teacakes, 2 batches (always a comforting favorite)

On the rise:

Clementine curd thumbprints, 2 batches (enthusiastic reception)

New this year:

Chocolate peppermint chip, 1 batch (Heidi loved them!)

Duck Tale

“Traditionally, the youngest at the table gets to eat the brains,” Julie said as she passed the platter of tea smoked duck. "So be careful, because the whole duck is on this platter."

We laughed and pointed at Treat. 

“And the most honored person--” she continued. 

“How do we determine that?” Bill interrupted. 

“It’s usually the oldest,” she answered. 

“That’s me!” I cried gleefully. 

“You get the butt,” she laughed, taking the platter from Victor. “Let me find it.” 

I looked at my plate. “You mean the tail?”

She nodded. 

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I already have it!”

Last Road Trip of the Year

The weather forecast was poor, ice storms along the route home, as we planned our departure from Buffalo today. Then, starting yesterday, even the map app warned us of treacherous conditions along the fastest route. But when I tapped the alternate, which was a mere eleven minutes longer, the app assured us that we would avoid icy weather if we drove that way. And so we set off this morning around ten, I in a jolly mood, eager to follow a novel route. 

And my disposition held, even when soft flurries began to brush off the windshield as we rolled southeast; the dusting of snow on the fallow farm fields was beautiful. But when, about an hour down the road, we passed a herd of cows whose backs were blanketed in white, the sight gave me pause. Soon, we were driving through a full-blown winter storm. 

The only saving grace was that the road was cold and the snow was dry, sweeping harmlessly off the windshield and across the roadway without accumulation. The temperature climbed slightly as we made our way south, though, and soon it was sleet and frozen rain, layering a half-inch of ice on our car. Miraculously, the road was not slippery, although we did need to chip off the ice from our wiper blades and headlights when we stopped for gas. 

Eventually, somewhere in southern Pennsylvania, the sleet subsided to rain, and we continued without further difficulty. The whole way, though, our car was cozy and warm, and traffic was light. We talked and ate Christmas cookies and finished our audiobook as the miles passed by, and soon enough? We were home.

Happy Christmas

"It came from some old magazine called Good Food, or something, and I think it's out of print," Heidi's mom said about the black walnut cake she made for Christmas dinner. "My hairdresser told me about it. She said that if she doesn't make this cake every year, her whole family complains. It's that good."

I nodded. 

"Anyway," she continued, "I couldn't find the magazine, but I found another recipe. I think it will be just as good."

I remembered our conversation this morning as I scanned through my library app. We have thousands of magazines! a banner assured me, and captivated, I clicked over. I tapped the food and dining filter and gasped when the first periodical that showed up was Good Food. 

Exploring the December issue of the magazine, I quickly realized it was a British publication. (The direction to "roll the pastry to the thickness of a £1 coin" was a dead giveaway!) I spent an enjoyable half-hour perusing English holiday recipes, most notably, (and I am not making this up!) Kentucky-fried pheasant and roast partridge with cannellini beans and bacon. (Okay, it was an article on taking a fresh perspective on game, but still.) 

The captions and titles were quintessentially British as well, for example, the piece on hors-d'ouevres made in the air-fryer called, "Deep and Crisp and Even." 😆 And I even loved the advertisements (pronounce it as you know you should-- stress on the second syllable, short i in the third). They were all

Barker ID

We heard a muffled bark from beyond a picture window as we walked the dogs this afternoon. Something about the pitch and the timbre struck a familiar chord with me, and I peered through the glass to see the dog. 

The brown-and-black German Shepherd looking out at us was not so much ferocious as excited, wagging its tail happily and barking to let our dogs know it was there. I smiled as we passed, recognizing the friendly bark as close to that of our childhood dog, Smokey. 

Was I imagining the similarity? Maybe. Although we can certainly pick Lucy's bark out of a pack, and there are days when our windows are open, Heidi will name the dog passing by the sound of its voice. "That's Cooper," she might say, or, "There goes Axel and Samba." Birds have distinct calls, too, varying by species, so is it really that far-fetched to think that dog breeds might have recognizable barks?

Christmas Special

Last night before bed, Heidi and I streamed the Christmas episode of SNL. Hosted by Ariana Grande with musical guest Cher, it was also Bowen Yang's last appearance as a regular cast member, a gig he's had since 2018. The humor was a bit dark, but the sentiment was mainly silly and sweet, and it hearkened back in that way to more classic holiday variety shows. 

And Cher sang my current favorite campy Christmas carol, DJ Play a Christmas Song. And my lord! She looked fantastic!

Sidewalk Philosopher

The ground was snowless as we walked the dogs this morning in the frigid air. But in the low spots on the sidewalks lay frosted panes of ice shattered in the places they had been stepped on. The sight reminded me of walking to school on winter days when I was a kid. Then, we raced ahead to be the one who got to stomp on the frozen sheets, reveling in the rewarding crunch as they splintered into shards of ice. Today, I wondered why it is sometimes so satisfying to break beautiful things.

Joys of Jello

We were discussing holiday menus with Heidi's mom tonight as we gathered around the table for the first meal of our Christmas visit. "Do you like Jello?" she asked as we brainstormed an easy brunch for Christmas morning.

"I'm not a big fan," I answered, "although I'm usually pleasantly surprised when I actually have it. Why?"

"I'm on a big Jello kick," she explained. "I love Jello, and found a cookbook I got for my wedding called The Joys of Jello, so I've been trying a lot of recipes from it."

"You're making Jello from a cookbook you received in 1966?" Heidi's brother asked in amusement. "What kind of things?"

"I made a delicious mold the other day for the neighbors with orange Jello, mandarin oranges, and orange sherbet," she answered. It was delicious! But I've made several other recipes, too."

I was all in. "If only you had a social media account to document your Jello journey!" I said. "I'm sure you would go viral!"

We Tried

Our friends and neighbors are finishing 2025 up with a bang. Not only are they having one of their IVF embryos implanted tomorrow, but in anticipation of their growing family, they also bought a four-bedroom house a few miles from here. Not surprisingly, their parents are super excited, a reaction intensified by the fact that they are both only children.

"You'll never believe what my parents said the other day," one of them told us. "They want to buy a king-sized adjustable bed for our guest room!"

"Awesome!" I said, considering the generosity of such an offer.

Her husband rolled his eyes. "We said no," he said.

"Those bedrooms are going to be for the kids one day," his wife added. "We told them a queen-sized bed would be fine. We already have the frame, and if they want to buy an adjustable mattress, they can," she shrugged.

"But guess what her dad said when we told them that?" her husband laughed.

"He said, 'I don't sleep in a queen bed'," the wife answered with exasperation.

Heidi and I made eye contact. Her parents were actually closer in age to us than our friends were. "It will be years before you need that bedroom for kids," I noted.

"And you know your parents are going to be a huge help when the baby is born," Heidi added.

"The older you get, a good night's sleep is not as easy to come by as you might think," I said. "And your parents are offering to pay for the whole bed."

They seemed to take what we said under consideration, but who knows? Maybe when things settle down a bit, they'll be more open.

A Friendly Recommendation

Subbing on the last day before winter break is not for the faint of heart, but I'm not faint-hearted, especially when it comes to sixth grade. That, plus a friend asked me to cover his American history class while he was recovering from wrist surgery.

His homeroom was kind of a shitshow with half the kids absent and the other half dedicated to doing anything except what they were supposed to.  And, first period was only slightly better as students "worked" to finish their posters on the Civil War. Finally, as an incentive, I offered anyone who completed their project, showed it to me, and made any changes I suggested the chance to play a game to win candy.

My gambit worked-- as a few students wrapped up the assignment and played the game, others locked in to get their chance, too. Then, about 20 minutes before the class ended, a student dropped her huge poster on the desk in front of me. "Here," she scoffed. "Can I play the game?"

I looked at the poster, which had no headings or illustrations, and advised her to add those requirements. She sighed loudly and whisked the poster away. In a minute, she was back. "Here," she repeated. "I'm done."

To my eye, the poster was unchanged. I looked up at her, but before I could speak, she said, "You said if we finish our posters, we can play the game."

"I said if you finish your poster and take my suggestions, you can play the game," I corrected her.

"I did take your suggestions," she told me. "I took them, and I threw them in the trash!"

"Oop!" I laughed, surprised by her audacious disrespect. "Good one! But you have to fix your poster if you want to play the game."

And she did.

Trolls Be Trollin

 Trump-Kennedy Center? Yuck.

We Wish You a Merry Christmas

Over the years, the number of Christmas cards we receive has dwindled. It's been our practice to hang the cards we receive in a wreath encircling the enormous mirror over our mantle, but last year we didn't even have enough to do that, so we used cute holiday clothespins to clip them to the garland we have strung across the window instead.

I completely understand the phenomenon; it's been decades since we sent our own holiday greetings. This time of year can be so hectic that some traditions fall by the wayside. Now that I'm retired, I have considered reinstating the practice, but I haven't progressed beyond the consideration phase. 

The ladies of my bowling league have an entirely different perspective, however. I was unprepared for the number of Christmas cards I received yesterday at our weekly match, and then again today at the holiday luncheon. Their greetings easily quadrupled those we already have this season, and how awesome it is that we may have to use both the mirror and the garland to display all the warm wishes that have been sent our way.

And? I definitely know how I'll be spending some of my time next Christmas!

...Until You try It

"Where are these famous Clementine cookies?" one of the teachers at our former school asked yesterday at the annual cookie exchange.

I pointed to a tin of thumbprint cookies filled with Clementine curd.

"Do you actually squeeze the Clementines?" she asked.

"Yeah, but it's not really that hard," I shrugged. "You just cut them in half and--" I gestured using the hinged citrus squeezer.

"But you made fresh-squeezed Clementine juice?" she laughed. "Really?"

"I guess I wouldn't be against buying it," I replied, "except I've never actually seen it anywhere. And you need it for the filling."

"Ridiculous!" she said and took a bite of her cookie. Her eyes widened. "But worth it!"

The Violent Femmes Method

One of Heidi's students was feeling frustrated and stood at the classroom door, ready to walk out. 

"I'm leaving!" he said. "You can't stop me!:"

"Okay," she replied, "but just so we're clear, if you leave without my permission, you will be suspended."

His eyes widened.

"And that will go on your permanent record for everyone to see, even your parents," she continued.

"Are you threatening me?" he sneered.

"No," she answered, "I'm just telling you what will happen if you walk out of here right now."

"Fine!" he said and turned on his heel to go back to his desk.

Prepositions Matter

Josh and his sister and her boyfriend stopped by for a few hours this afternoon on their road trip home to Pennsylvania from Roanoke. I had spent the morning baking, and enjoyed a crackling fire, milk and cookies as we visited. Jay had never been to DC, so he was puzzled when we started talking about kickball leagues. 

"Wait! Adults play kickball here?" he asked.

"Yeah," Josh answered. "Down on the mall."

Jay looked incredulous. "How do they play kickball in the mall?" he asked.

"Not 'in'," Josh corrected him. "On."

Heidi nodded sympathetically. "Not a shopping mall," she explained. "It's a big green space with lots of museums in the middle of D.C."

"But they really play kickball there?" Jay clarified.

"They really do," she said, and he shook his head in disbelief.

Scientific Inquiry

"I have a question," a student in the science class I was subbing for yesterday remarked. "If I put a slice of bread on the ground here, and someone else put one on the ground exactly on the other side of the earth, would that make our planet a sandwich?"

I raised my eyebrows at what seemed like his obvious attempt to avoid the worksheet he was doing on the planets, but before I could comment, another student raised his hand.

"I have some thoughts," he said, "about what constitutes a sandwich."

Intrigued, the first student and I both nodded, inviting him to continue.

"I would say you have to at least have a two-thirds ratio of filling to bread, and even that is pretty stuffed." He paused for our reaction to his theory.

"That seems right," I agreed. "So the answer to the question is no."

"What if we had an enormous piece of bread?" The first kid wouldn't give up. "And we placed it, say, over New York City." He shrugged as if it were obvious why he would want to cover the Big Apple with bread. "And then put the other piece wherever is opposite."

"That's probably an ocean," observed the second student. "Which would make the bread very soggy."

"As fascinating as this is," I interrupted, only half ironically, "it really isn't relevant to the work you're supposed to be doing."

Student one sighed. Student two nodded in prudent agreement. Both returned to their worksheet.

What's Not in My Wallet

Having a lifetime pass to the National Parks offers me unlimited access to some of the most beautiful places in the country, and I got it as soon as I was eligible at age 62. Before that, we used to purchase the standard America the Beautiful pass annually, always looking forward to whatever amazing photograph of which national park was featured. I missed that when I got my permanent card.

Even so, as many reasons as there are that I appreciate my lifetime pass to the National Parks, now there's one more:

Illuminating

We have picked up our CSA share on Thursday for over a decade, and yet for some reason this year? I keep forgetting to go get my vegetables and eggs until it's nearly dinner time. Fortunately, tonight on my way back I took a detour to enjoy all the neighborhood holiday lights. In the darkness of deepening December, they shone ever so brightly, and I forgave myself for being such a dunderhead.

Target Demographics

My classroom observation was unexpectedly postponed this morning, so rather than drive half an hour back home, I decided to do my errands where I was. Fortunately, there was a Home Depot and a Target just a couple of miles down the road, near the interstate, which would be my return route. 

At 11 AM on Wednesday, both stores were practically deserted, and despite being only about 12 miles from home, the inventory seemed a little different, too. Employees in both places were busy neatening and restocking the shelves, and a friendly Target employee and I had an in-depth conversation about the shopping habits of his customers versus those of the shoppers in my neck of the woods. 

"People here shop at night!" he told me. "Once it gets dark out, this place will be jam-packed with whole families." He shook his head. "Personally? I'm glad I work in the morning. Once those trucks are unloaded, I just try to get as much done for the next shift, because they are all going to be called to their registers!"

"Wow," I said. "That's nuts!"

"I feel like people in Virginia are on a different schedule," he told me. "There are a lot of moms and other people shopping while the kids are in school, so they don't have to deal with them in the store."

"That's an interesting theory," I nodded. "You might be on to something."

Our conversation reminded me of the first-grade class just a few miles away that I had visited the week before. The students were working on a writing piece about a special place in their community, and their teacher had them brainstorm three places that they might write about. As I circulated around looking over their shoulders, I noticed that most of them had chosen Target, Walmart, 7-11, and the grocery store. 

More data for the Target guy!

What Am I Missing?

This year, we shopped again at the nursery that names all its trees, and our Christmas tree is named Hezekiah, which did not factor into our choice at all. Even so, I was curious as to why anyone might choose that name for a tree, and I did a little research once we had things all set up. 

The name Hezekiah has no popular culture reference that I could find, much less one related to Christmas. Biblically, he's an Old Testament king, apparently known for his efforts to rid Judah of idolatry and his successful prayers to extend his life for fifteen years. Perhaps the namer of our tree was going ironic on the first part and pragmatic on the second, as in Christmas trees couldn't possibly be construed as false idols (wink, wink), but hopefully this one will stay fresh a really long time!

I guess I'm cool with that sentiment.

First Project of the Day

Heidi had an early meeting this morning, so I got up early, too, to make coffee and pack her lunch. By 6:30, she was gone, and I was standing on the counter by the sink, cleaning the window and removing the screen so that I could thread an extension cord out to the front porch. 

Our condo association is redoing all the exterior lights, and while the new sconce by our front door is a nice upgrade, the LED light does not allow us to replace the bulb with the plug-in adapter we used for our holiday lights. We briefly discussed having an outdoor outlet installed, but it would be a bit costly and involved. 

I've been mulling the situation for a few weeks now and had yet to come up with a resolution when our neighbors began asking Heidi why our annual lights weren't up yet. "They seemed genuinely disappointed," Heidi reported. 

Nothing is ever as easy as it seems, though, and getting power to the porch involved WD-40 to lubricate and swing the ancient window open on its cleaning hinge, removing the brittle screen, finding some foam to fill the air gap and cushion the extension cord, and rigging a block so that the window would stay secrely closed since it couldn't be locked. 

Fortunately, all of the tools and supplies were available, and by 6:45 AM, we were ready for the lights! And, I was on such a roll that I washed all the colanders on the pot rack (having seen how dusty they were when I was up on the counter), made bread, baked cookies, swept the porch, blew all the leaves, and walked the dog, all before 9.

MVT

We had the fourth quarter of the Bills game on the radio as we drove to get our Christmas tree this afternoon. They had been behind the Bengals for three quarters, and Heidi wanted to know if she could wear her Bills gear or not tomorrow. Buffalo was only behind by three points when I turned the ignition, but before we were out of the complex, Cincinnati scored a touchdown. "There's still plenty of time left," I shrugged. "Josh Allen is good under this kind of pressure."

And indeed! Allen scored as we turned onto Route 7. A few moments later, Benford intercepted and ran for a touchdown, and Buffalo did not give up the lead again. Even so, both teams battled it out in the snow, sacking and slipping and sliding and scoring 34 points between them in the final quarter. The game was not quite over when we pulled into the parking lot of the nursery where we have purchased our tree in recent years, and we sat with the heater running until Allen took a knee on the snap, and the win was assured.

"That was exciting!" I said as we made our way to the tree lot and started looking for the perfect fit. This place gives every tree a name, and we laughed when we saw Sarah Connor. "Come with me if you want to live," I said in my best Austrian cyborg accent. A couple of rows over, we saw Albus Dumbledore and the White Witch, but one was too skinny and the other too tall. 

"Look!" Heidi pointed, laughing. "It's Josh Allen!" As we inspected the Fraser fir, she added, "I feel like we should get this one!"

"Yeah," I said, "but look at it." I pointed to some gaps and broken branches on the tree, which was leaning heavily to the right. "It's so beat up! It's like it actually played in the game."

First Saturday of December

"We have three parties to go to tomorrow," our neighbor laughed last night as she told us about her weekend.

"We're in town this weekend for parties," Heidi's dogwalking pal, who has a place in the mountains, told her this morning when she texted to suggest a visit to the dog park.

"Why is everybody going to parties except us?" I wondered aloud this evening as I leashed Lucy up for a walk.

Heidi shrugged. "They have a different social situation than we do. I guess it could be age or job or personality." Then she laughed. "Do you wish you had a lot of parties to go to?"

"Not necessarily," I answered crossly, "but an invitation or two doesn't seem that far-fetched."

The sky was darkening as Lucy and I finally crossed the threshold and headed up the hill, and the streets were silent as we wended our way through the neighborhood past apartments and houses, she sniffing, I admiring all the holiday lights. We walked on, enjoying the quiet evening.

"I guess everyone else is at parties," I said, looking at my dog. "Lucky for us."

Irregular Joe

"It's very tea-like," Julie, my nephew Victor's fiancée, said thoughtfully.

I nodded and sipped my own coffee, considering her comment. Victor, his brother Treat, and I love coffee, and we love a taste test, too. That's why the morning after Thanksgiving found us weighing the Ethiopian beans Victor had brought from Germany and brewing them two ways —pour-over and Aeropress. We served the coffee in pairs of the dozens of tiny juice glasses our rental house came equipped with, soliciting impressions from anyone in the family interested in a blind tasting.

The end results as to which was better were mixed, although every taster was able to distinguish a difference of details between the two preparations. Treat poured his together, then declared that the best cup of coffee would have to be prepared both ways and mixed.

As for the tea comment, it stuck with me. For the last couple of weeks, I, an inveterate coffee and cream drinker, have switched to black, the better to appreciate the nuance of my brew. It's been fun, especially since we splurged on a coffee Advent calendar again and have enjoyed a different bean every day since December 1.

Memory is the Best Sauce

After my observation yesterday, I drove over to see my aunt, since I was in the neighborhood (sort of). School started early over there, and so I was taking off my shoes and sitting down at her kitchen table by eleven. "I'm heating up turkey soup for lunch," she told me. 

"Does it have tomatoes and rice?" I asked, remembering how my mom used to make hers after Thanksgiving.

"Of course!" my aunt laughed. "How did you know?"

I can't say I loved my mother's turkey soup when I was a kid; there was something about the combination of bony broth, tiny shreds of turkey, chunky tomatoes, and frozen mixed vegetables that put me off. And as she'll tell you herself, my aunt is not known for her cooking.

But that soup? Was delicious.

In the Wheelhouse

I was nervous this morning when I stepped into the first grade classroom for my first coaching observation, but I needn't have been. The 18 kids were adorable as they quietly listened to their teacher lead them through whole-class phonics instruction. I felt right at home as I slid into a tiny chair and pulled out my notepad and pen, jotting observations and questions as the lesson progressed. When it was time for independent work and small groups, I circulated through the class and assisted as needed. 

An hour after I arrived, I waved at the teacher. "I wish I could stay all day!" I laughed. "See you next time."

And as I headed back to my car, I couldn't help thinking that maybe? I should just unretire and be a first grade teacher!

No Pressure

When the low tire pressure light came on in the car yesterday, I could have chalked it up to the cold weather and refilled it myself, but I decided to take it as a reminder to have the car serviced, especially since we had just returned from a long drive at Thanksgiving and have another planned for Christmas. And I already had the appointment when the low oil light came on, too, so I was glad I made the choice I did.

After bowling this afternoon, I drove down to the dealer and settled in to wait a couple of hours in their lounge. A little while later, though, my service representative came over to report that there had been a power outage in the repair shop, and my car was stuck on the lift until it was restored. "Can I get you into a loaner?" she asked. "We have no idea how long it will take."

I shrugged in assent, but told her I might not be able to return the car until later tomorrow afternoon, since I am scheduled to do my first coaching observation in Maryland and then have lunch with my aunt afterwards. She assured me that it would be fine, and I wondered if this was another attempt to persuade me to buy a new car. After I signed the agreement, one of the porters was thoughtful enough to pull the brand-new sage-green Crosstrek into the check-in bay so that I wouldn't have to go outside in the rain, which I really appreciated. 

I was nearly home when the tire pressure light came on in that car, too. Unfortunately, our electric air pump was in our car, so I drove to a nearby gas station. There was a black sedan ahead of me at the air pump, but the driver moved out of my way and then hopped out to help me. He checked my tires for damage and then filled them all. I thanked him profusely for this random act of kindness, and then drove home, hopeful that I'll make it to Maryland tomorrow.

Shrug

It was cold and blustery when I walked Lucy this afternoon, and I was glad for the gloves I keep stuffed in my vest pockets. Still, I was surprised by the email I received from the consulting company I'm freelancing for, reminding us of inclement weather procedures for the school system we are working with. A little while later, Heidi called from school. "Everyone here says there might be a delay tomorrow morning!" She paused. "Is it true?"

I told her I thought it was unlikely, though I admitted I hadn't checked any weather sources recently. What a difference a year of retirement makes!