I promise there’s some knitting content here, just be patient…

It’s that Christmas-y time of year again. My mother the elf has been busy scattering little bits of seasonal cheer around the house. The tree, of course. The garland on the mantle. But there are a couple that I particularly love.

  First, this wooden Santa that we’ve had forever. My Grandfather made it (in the fifties, I think, well before my sister and I came along), and we all think that Santa rather looks like my Grandfather . . . it’s almost like having him right here, in our front hall. It wouldn’t be Christmas without Grandpa Claus. (I can remember when he was taller than me, too.)

  Second, this absolutely adorable ceramic centerpiece my sister painted for me. A pile of puppies and kittens climbing all over a slightly harried-looking Santa, my sister made this the year I brought Katy home. So, the puppy in his arm, I asked to be named Katy, and given a chocolate brown coat–and then Patty named the rest of the animals after Martha’s Vineyard. Martha. Vinnie. Tizzie (Tisbury). Edgar. Chappy. And so on.

Funny story there–Chappy’s first Christmas? We pulled this out and took a look . . . uh-oh. I picked up the phone. “Patty? You know that puppy-and-kitten centerpiece you made me? Well, there’s a problem. No, no! It didn’t break or anything, but . . . Chappy’s a kitten!!” That just wouldn’t do. Kittens are adorable and lovable, and I’m sure there are plenty of real kittens named Chappy, and that’s just fine. But in this house? No, he insisted. That just wouldn’t do. Luckily, my sister’s handy with a paint pen and now the brown dog chewing on the hat is named Chappy.

Want a closer look? Because, really, my sister did an incredible job. (I could never have done this!)

 

The one sight I don’t appreciate this time of year?

  The stack, pile, mountain of Stollen ingredients . . . It’s “Stollen Weekend” in our household . . . my least favorite of the year . . . but more on that tomorrow.

Meantime, my parents are up on Martha’s Vineyard for the weekend. (It’s generally safer to be as far away from the kitchen as possible when I’m baking Stollen.) They arrived safely, but had a rocky start. Just before they left the house this morning, Dad fell over a baby gate Mom had placed across the upstairs hallway. And I mean, fell. To the ground. Warped the wooden gate completely out of shape. Luckily, he wasn’t near the actual stairs, and he didn’t hurt himself beyond a couple bumps, but that was not a good start to the trip.

And then Mom told me on the phone just a little while ago–she didn’t have Neosporin cream like she thought she did, so she and Dad walked up to the grocery store and as they stepped up the curb . . .yep. She fell. Again, luckily, she didn’t really hurt herself–a couple scratches from the sidewalk and the row of grocery carts she fell into . . . You know, my parents aren’t elderly yet, but they’re more fragile than they used to be. I’m so relieved neither of them hurt themselves! Especially considering how tender Mom’s hands are these days. She says they’re “even” now. I said I’m just glad that they drove up already sitting down–if they’d had to walk, who knows what would have happened? (grin)

I promised you a finished object, and here it is. My neck-warmer scarf out of Kid Silk Haze–just long enough to wrap around my neck, tuck into itself, and provide a nice, fluffy, ruffle to fill in the neckline of my coat. I think I’ll block it tomorrow . . . or maybe not. I haven’t really decided . . . it might not need it. If not, I’ll model it for you. Two finished objects in one week. I’m practically giddy.

Today, of course, was the 25th anniversary of John Lennon’s murder. My Beatles-fan coworkers were all listening to Q104 on the radio today–they were playing all John, all the time, along with rare interviews . . . so even though I wasn’t listening myself, I’ve had John Lennon’s tunes in my head all day. (Not a bad thing.) I do remember when he was killed. I was in 8th grade but had never paid much attention to the Beatles, before or after their breakup. My best friend, though, on December 8th asked her Mom who John Lennon was, and before long, had a Beatles Collection album (the “red” or “blue” one) and she was hooked. That summer, she got me hooked.

While everyone else in high school was listening to Pink Floyd or Kiss or Bruce Springsteen (no offense, Cara), we were devoted to the Beatles.  We knew every song, every harmony, and we used to draw mop-top “Tweetle Beatles” on the notes we’d leave in each others’ lockers, and we had tons of silly little catch phrases for each of them. (Little George went around saying “Om” all the time while he meditated. Little Paul fixed holes. Little John had a thing for eggmen . . . You get the idea. We were teenagers, and we were silly. (And, yes, I kept a couple of them . . . the notes, that is. )

And, wow. Sixty-four years since Pearl Harbor Day, yesterday? We were talking about that at dinner last night–how it doesn’t have the same impact anymore, both because it was so long ago, for a war that affected a generation or two ago. But also, it’s been overshadowed by 9/11 as the worst “day of infamy,” not only because it’s more recent, but I think, even more terrible. For Pearl Harbor, the world was at war, even if we hadn’t entered it yet–something like that was bound to happen. September 11th? Terrorists out of the blue. And, well, only four years ago . . . and even that’s being forgotten, hard though that is to realize.

Anyway, tomorrow, we’re supposed to get snow. The numbers are varying depending on which weather forecast you watch. Three to five inches seems to be the best guess. The bright side of this? I’ve taken the day off from work (for Stollen), so I don’t have to drive anywhere tomorrow, AND since my parents are away, I get to park the car in the garage, so it won’t turn into a big, Swedish snowdrift. All I have to do outside tomorrow is get the newspapers and the mail. I’m actually looking forward to it!

Hope everyone stays safe. Sorry this post was so long!

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