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.