Something Old, Something New

Gluten-free Christmas Cookies  

On Christmas Eve, Grant read aloud A Child’s Christmas in Wales by Dylan Thomas. This year I was the only audience, but in the past, it was to all the children, after Christmas Eve services, accompanied by eggnog and cookies. This year, we skipped services and, in honor of the Hispanic flavor of Key Biscayne, sipped rum and ate tres leche cake. We are adapting.

For Christmas, we drove up to have dinner with a friend in Fort Lauderdale. Patten brought Filipino crab soup full of quail eggs and baby corn. Dinner was Honey-baked ham, my smashed potatoes (from a New York Times recipe), Grant’s vinaigretted asparagus, Brussels sprouts with cranraisins, and a multi-berry pie Marjorie baked. Fortunately she forgot to put out the deviled eggs she made for appetizers. We were more than sated.

The secret to eating good food is to hang out with good cooks who use good ingredients. Seems obvious, but the Christmas cookies I bought through our congregation’s auction sadly proved my point. They looked good, but with too little butter and sugar plus an emphasis on being gluten-free, I feel guilty for saying, they were miserable excuses for cookies. After a couple of nibbles, we designated them for the garbage can, saving our tastebuds and waistlines.

Priorities

Note The Green-Tipped Hair
True Christmas Spirit 

Aye, yai, yai, last night the House of Representatives voted to impeach President Trump. On my drive back from Orlando, I listened to some of the debate:
     
        "I rise to support the impeachment of that weasel..."
        "I rise in opposition to the impeachment by my distinguished colleagues who couldn't find their ass with both hands..."

Okay, maybe the debate was a little more subtle that I've portrayed but not by much. Back and forth, back and forth. When a representative asked how much time was left for debate, and the answer was more than 3 hours for each side, I switched to the All-Christmas-All-The-Time radio station. Even really odd renditions of "Little Drummer Boy", my very least Christmas song, were better than listening to our elected officials squabble. So true we should never see sausage or legislation made.

Even more crazy was that every TV station aired the debate until 8:00 PM, and then regular programming reappeared so we did not have to miss live reenactments of episodes from two 1970's shows, "All In The Family" and "Good Times", scheduled months ago for this time slot. I guess the shows must go on, no matter what is happening in the real world.

Which is true for me as well. While Congress spends my tax dollars in, at best, dubious ways, I got to hear my granddaughter play violin and sing in her school's winter concert. More and more I think we should next to her and reap the rewards of being grandparents.

Christmas Letter

A few years ago, I gathered up copies of all my Christmas letters since 2000, (there may have been ones before then but that’s all I could find), and put them in an album with the corresponding pictures with Santa. Whether or not anyone else is interested in my family’s doing, I treasure this year-in-review catalog of us. Writing and sending a letter once a year to people we have known for years and getting their letters in return is a pleasure I am not willing to give up yet.

I was an early adopter of Facebook, back when one had to have an email with a “edu” extension, but quickly tired of having to be creative in posting. Ditto for Twitter, etc. I waste enough time without using social media. I fear becoming consumed more than I fear missing out.

Big Carbon Footprint and Our Rugs

At The Rug Co-op  

In the past 10 days, we have driven to Fort Lauderdale or farther north 8 times. What happened to our stay on the key and not use the car plan? One trip was a doctor appointment, twice was my having lunch with friends, Grant facilitated the Men's Group at our congregation, we both went to our covenant group, we gave in and attended the auction fundraiser, even though it was on a Friday evening which meant 2 hours of stop-and-go rush hour traffic, Sunday a baby shower in Lake Worth, and our marriage enrichment meeting Wednesday evening, another rush hour traffic slog.

Plus I took the bus and ride-share to and from Art Basel, which probably would have been a quicker bike ride with no worries about being hit because traffic barely crept along.

In Our Condo  

Today I got back on track and rode my bike to the post office after riding with Grant to his work. The cold front and its rain hit the key just as we left our apartment. Even with my fancy rain jacket, I got soaked from cars going past and from water tossed up by my fender-less tires, but it's south Florida, not a state with much hypothermia. I mailed the first set of our Christmas cards and letters, another non-carbon-free activity which I get much pleasure from.

I am also getting much pleasure from our Moroccan rugs which arrived yesterday. Every time I look at them, my heart is happy. Cat Annie was not as impressed. She sniffed around, laid on the biggest one for a few minutes, then moved on. As I enjoy my rugs, I'm ignoring that they were shipped by air, rather than by sailboat, the new guilt-free way to travel.