Here comes Peter Cottontail

Easter is my favorite holiday. It is a time of renewal, hope, promise and change. Every year I have people in for an often freezing-dash-around-the-yard egghunt and lunch. I hope your holiday was as terrific as mine.

Rehab for the holidays

My cousin called last night to tell me that my 84-year old aunt fell at the doctor’s office (of all places) while taking off her shoes to be weighed. (It is those little vanities that may kill us.) She broke her hip, badly and not only will she require surgery but a plate and screws. She is now in the hospital waiting to be squeezed into the operating room schedule. Her 82 year-old sister went into the hospital for carpal tunnel surgery before Thanksgiving to come out with a triple bypass (She had been having tightness in her chest but did not tell anyone.) They will both be in rehab for the holidays but with any luck in the same facility. We will no doubt be driving back and forth while I am home for Christmas.

I suppose I will send flowers, but when, where and how is the question. And you know I will have to send to both of them or there will be hell to pay. I wonder if the fruit basket is better? Or maybe cookies or oh, I don’t know. Oy family dynamics. Any suggestions?

Raspberry White Chocolate Bars

While I was staking out the Red Crossbill at a neighbor's house, I learned that Weis Ecology Center was having a Christmas tree sale as a fundraiser. In addition to the tree yard, they were also having arts and crafts for the kids and a bake sale. I rushed home to bake chocolate bear cookies and these fabulous red and white bars. I don't make as many holiday cookies as I used to, goodness knows, what with the price of ingredients these days, but these holiday bars as part of my repetoire and great as gifts, for cookies exchanges and fundraising bake sales. They freeze great too, I have often frozen them for weeks.

1 ½ cups sugar
1 ½ cups butter, softened
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoon vanilla
4 cups flour
2 eggs
1 18oz jar of red raspberry preserves (I use seedless Polaner)
1 cup white chocolate chips (I use an entire bag of Ghirardelli white)

Heat over to 350. Combine sugar, butter, salt and vanilla in large mixing bowl. Beat at medium speed, scraping often, until well mixed (1-2 minutes). Reduce speed to low. Beat, adding flour 1 cup at a time and scraping often, until mixture is crumbly. Remove 1 cup of the crumb mixture and set aside. Add eggs to the mixture in the bowl; beat until mixture forms a dough. Press the dough into an ungreased 13X9-inch baking pan. Bake for 30 minutes or until lightly browned. Spread preserves over the hot, partially baked bars. Sprinkle the chips over the jam. Sprinkle the reserved crumb mixture over the top. Return to oven and continue baking for another 20-25 minutes or until topping is lightly browned. Cool completely. Cut into bars. Makes 48 bars.

Pink Tractor

There were no girly pink tractors when I was small. I think we had a beat-up red one. Or maybe a cousin had a beat-up red one. Whosoever it was, it most definitely was not new or pink. I took this picture at Tractor Supply. It tickled me. And John Deere makes bikes now??? Now that is building brand loyalty! I love shopping in the flatland, things are so different there then they are here.

I love Easter.

I love that the Hyacinths, opening in the warmth of the house, fills each room all the way to the basement with the smell of spring.

I love the little wicker baskets stuffed with wisps of green cellophane grass and foiled-covered treats.

I love sharing my table with my loved ones at this first feast of the barely budding new season. 

 
I love the bright plastic eggs lovingly stashed in the crevices of rock walls by the Easter Bunny.

I love the ham, Au Gratin potatoes and asparagus with Hollandaise that we eat every year without fail.



I love the set of springtime dishes that grace the table with their gold rims and flights of butterflies, dragonflies and other winged things.

I love that there are 2 little people that look forward to coming to my house for Easter and start to pester their parents months in advance.

I love that this is the day that we celebrate our faith. Without the crucifixion and resurrection we would not be Christians.

I leave you on this Easter Sunday with my Aunt Evelyn’s recipe for Herb Rolls. She made them for every holiday when I was growing up.

1 pkg dry yeast
3 ½ C. flour
2 tsps. celery seed
¼ tsp. sage
1 tsp. parsley
1 ¼ C. milk
¼ C. shortening
¼ C. sugar
1 tsp. salt
1 egg

In a bowl mix together the yeast, 1 ½ C. flour, and the herbs. Heat together the milk, shortening, sugar and salt until just warm (not too hot), stir to melt the shortening. Stir wet into dry. Add the egg and beat at low speed for 1 minute, then move to high speed for 3 minutes, scraping the bowl constantly. By hand, stir in enough flour to make a stiff dough. Grease a large bowl. Put in the dough, turning it over to grease all sides. Chill 2 hours covered with a damp cloth. (Don’t do it overnight, the dough grows too much in the fridge and oozes out of the bowl, then does not rise well when cooked. Been there, did that.) Pinch off a piece of the dough and roll it in the palm of your hand to make a 1 ½” ball. Put 3 dough balls in each opening of a greased muffin pan. Let rise about an hour until doubled in size. Bake at 400F for 12-15 minutes. Makes about 18 rolls. These can be made the day before and put hot into aluminum foil, sealed tight and refrigerated. Pop the unopened foil package into the oven, after the potatoes come out, for about 15 minutes. Set out the butter lamb to soften at the same time. One of my favorite things. I love these. Enjoy.

Christmas Aerobics

Clump, clump, clump down the stairs to the basement to gather the empty bags and boxes for the nativity scene.

Clump, clump, clump up the stairs to the living room to wrap the kings, shepard, donkey, ox and the entire flock of sheep and put them away for another year. The holy family gets its own little box. I had a pang when I stuffed in the Baby Jesus.

Clump, clump, clump back down the stairs carrying the bag full of nativity boxes in one hand and the hefty manger in the other. Whew. I gathered up the empty black trash bags for all of the garland.

Clump, clump, clump up the stairs to the foyer. I had previously staged most of the decorations in a gigantic pile on the sofa in the living room. I stuffed all the inside garland into one bag and the outside garland into another. Huh, what was the 3rd empty bag for? I tossed the bags of garland down the basement stairs only to discover that I had to go down anyway to gather yet more boxes and bags for the wreaths.

Clump, clump, clump down the stairs. My, I am starting to get a little winded.

After much to-ing and fro-ing or maybe up-ing and down-ing. The first floor was devoid of any hint of the holiday. I went from room to room to check. Ah, but remember the tree was on the second floor in the library.

Puff, puff, puff, back up the stairs. I had taken off most of the ornaments but I never taken take down the tree or put things away until after Epiphany (a hang over from my childhood, I guess.) I took off the lights and pulled apart the tree. Ah, the ease of the fake tree.

Clump, clump, clump down 2 flights of stairs now with the sections of the tree and tree stand. (whose idea was it to put the tree on the 2nd floor, anyway!) In the basement, I pulled out all of the Christmas tubs and riffled through them. Hmmm, there seemed to be one missing.

Clump, clump, clump up two flights of stairs, I discovered that I was smart enough to leave the winter ornament tub in the library closet. I wrapped the breakable ornaments, re-boxed the crocheted snowflakes and tottered down the 2 flights of stairs one un-seen step at a time with the heavy tub.

Finally a little duct tape on the plastic tree skirt bag, several more flights of stairs and DONE for another year!

I need a cool down and stretch after all that work. sigh. I guess I’ll vacuum.

The Kindness of Strangers

Scraaaape.

Scraaaape.

My sister looked up. If you have ever shoveled snow, you know the
distinct sound and rhythm of a shovel scraping blacktop. The room
was dark except for the TV and the multicolored twinkling lights from
the tree in the corner.

Scraaaape.

Scraaaape.

Who is shoveling after dark? She looked at the clock. 8:30. She
pushed back the insulted drape and peering out in the darkness. She
saw a dark form shoveling the driveway at the old man's house next
door. Hmm. It must be his daughter. She looked over to her boyfriend.

"Wanna get cold?"

They both shrugged into their coats, grabbed 2 shovels and went
around the house.

"Want some help?"

The person shoveling stood up. It was not the daughter but a man
from up the street.

"Sure!"

My sister and her boyfriend started to shovel. The man up the street
continued to shovel. The snow was heavy and wet. The 6 inches had
turned into 4 with the rain. It was hard work.

"It is like shoveling cement." The comment hung there in the stillness.

A few minutes later a man from several houses down the street showed
up having heard the sound of shoveling in the darkness. He started
to shovel too. The four strangers worked for half an hour together
in the darkness. They finished the driveway and the walk leading
to the house. They also cleared the sidewalk in front of the house.

When the job was done, they all met at the end of the driveway and
introduced themselves. Strangers, neighbors, and now friends.

Kindness is still alive and well in the flatland.

Christmas cop-out ?

I used to think that giving a gift card was a cop-out.  For that matter, I used to think using the gift bag instead of the beautifully wrapped gift was a cop-out.  But NO MORE!

I have been migrating to the gift bag for a few years.  I had not noticed how far until I went for the Christmas wrap only to discover that I had NONE.  Absolutely none.  Not even a scrap.    There are bags of bows, piles of tissue paper in every hue and miscellaneous gift bags in random sizes but not the tiniest square of holiday wrapping paper anywhere.  I scrounged around in the library closet, where I keep all the wrap.  I riffled through the gift closet thinking I may have stashed it there.  I even went downstairs to the hall closet where I keep the paper shopping bags.   Nada.  

I wandered around the house perplexed.  Why was there no wrap?  As I passed through the kitchen, the phone rang.  It was my sister.  “Mom bought David a gift card to Walmart. It looks like everyone is getting a gift card this year, so we need to think about good stocking stuffers.”

Ah, the gift card.  Every store, restaurant, gas station, and supermarket has one.  There is even a display rack of cards at the local A&P.  It is convenient, less nerve-wracking and better than giving cash (the ultimate in cop-outs.)  I have finally embraced the gift card.  Let them buy what they want.  Let them spend their own money on gas.  Let me buy what I want.  For that matter buy me a gift card for gas.   And don’t bother wrapping it, just put it in a gift bag with a little tissue so I will be surprised.  

   

Christmas Tree Compulsive

I can’t remember why I started to do theme trees. I supposed I thought everybody did. My mother collected angels as far back as I can remember; over time our Christmas tree became completely filled with angel ornaments. In High School my best friend’s family also did theme trees, but their theme changed from year to year, that intrigued me.

I would go into people’s house and look at their trees and try to guess the theme only to discover that there was no theme. Their ornaments were either handed-down over the years or purchased on sale after the holiday. Apparently having theme trees is unusual. But I love them.

I have a theme every year. I have done glass candy, birds, Great North Woods, winter, fish, only red bows, fruit and vegetables, gardening, cookies, ice storm, flowers, colors, friendship, international, Victorian, WWII, handmade, etc. I collect ornaments over time as I see them or they are on sale. I hold on to them until I have enough to pull together a theme. As you can image I have tubs and tubs of ornaments.

This year I am re-using my Winter Wonderland theme. (white lights, crocheted snowflakes, little felt mittens, sweaters, hats, snowmen, sleighs, snowshoes, skates, a few polar bears, and the tree-topper is a toboggan hat I bought in Alaska.)

How do you decorate your tree?

Gift closet.

In my travels throughout the year, I pick up gifts as I see them for my family and friends. The trick is to remember that I bought them, where I put them, what gift was for which person and why did I think it might be right for them. To make it worse, the gift closet is in the studio and frankly I hardly go in there any more.

This year I am on top of it. Whew. There is the cutest little thing I bought in Tucson. A food item from Alaska I dragged all the way back in my luggage. (Oh, and speaking of Alaska, Gale, I am keeping the toboggan hat for myself!) But there are still gifts in the closet that I have no idea for whom they were intended. And to be perfectly honest…there are also gifts that I was given that might…ahem…find new owners.

I am not opposed to re-gifting. We have all done it. We all receive things, we smile and say thank you and then on the ride home shake our heads in disbelief. What could have possessed them to think that I might like this whatever it might be? This year, you will be happy to know, no re-gifting from me (not that I have ever done that, of course.). All of you reading this can breathe a sigh of relief. I even bought the gift for the Yankee Swap at work.

City sidewalks, Busy sidewalks

I stepped out of the hotel into the bustle of Michigan Avenue. In the air there was a feeling of Christmas. I could see it. I could feel it. There were crowds of people clutching shopping bags in both hands crossing the street. There were Salvation Army bell ringers wearing their Santa hats. The stores were decorated with Christmas trees and garland, their windows filled with manikins in finery, outerwear or the latest fashion. The shoppers were strolling bundled against the cold wind with their children peeking out of their wrappings. I joined the flow; let it draw me up the street.

The excitement on the street was palpable. The Lights Festival would start at 6pm. It is the only parade I know of that is at night. The kids on the street were laughing, people passing them by with smiles. Excitement was building. Santa would be there of course, but best of all, Mickey Mouse would wave his wand and the lights along the avenue would magically light up.

I had been struggling. The holiday season was approaching and I couldn’t get with it. I don’t know if it was the warm weather, my crazy schedule of late or the general humbug that was going around. I had heard many people say they were not in the spirit. Well, my friends, I found mine on Michigan Avenue in Chicago.