Biscuit Day #551

An exceedingly fine batch of biscuits this morning.

Mine with cheese, a bit of bacon done just the right way (a tad chewy, none of this crispy business), a slice of extra sharp cheddar, and a smear of my whipped feta/yoghurt/cranberry dip. Utterly delightful. Ernie, of course, went with mustard. At one point he said, “My biscuit is breaking up, the mustard is oozing out. It’s beautiful.”

God, I love him.

Our biscuit ornament meeting the real thing.

In unrelated but exciting news, yesterday found me manipulating my constipated cat’s butt until I was able to pop out a large lump of hardened poop. It was horrifying for both of us, amazingly rank, and rather satisfying–again, hopefully for both of us. Gotta up the Miralax we sprinkle on her food. My poor little old lady. Aging is not dignified for anybody.

Ernie was quite impressed. He doesn’t quite have the constitution necessary for such an activity. Surprising really, as he was great at changing diapers (nothing sexier than a man with a cute baby and a diaper bag).

Thanks for the beautiful flowers, Peggy.

Now, in a slightly Scrooge-like moment, may I express my disdain for those cookies with Hershey’s kisses stuck in them? I don’t get it. You get a nice bite of cookie and then a hard piece of chocolate. They would be so much better separately. Sometimes things are more than the sum of their parts, sometimes less. This form does not follow function.

Ok, with more Christmas spirit, a few pictures.

I just love that Mistletoe guy.

This is how Hattie likes to lie on me these days, stretched across my chest, tucked under my chin so I can’t do a damn thing but hold her. My girl.

After I send this off to you I will join Ernie in the kitchen to make my meat pie, or tourtière. The recipe comes from my maternal French Canadian side and goes back to my great-great grandmother, Hermine DeLage, who was born in Quebec in 1857, and it absolutely smells like Christmas. We’ll bake it ahead and have it this evening with cranberry sauce and coleslaw. We plan to head over to the Rose Bowl for some afternoon music and a Christmas toast with a few friends. Then home for the aforementioned meat pie, and our annual watching of It’s a Wonderful Life. I find rituals very comforting, both old family ones and the ones we have created.

It’s a quiet and calm Christmas Eve compared to those in the past, juggling elderly parents, excited kids and lots of gifts, and let’s face it, lots of stress. Wrapping gifts madly (Ernie) and tiredly planning Christmas dinner (me). However there moments of great joy (Owen still swears he saw Santa in our living room one night) and beauty (the boys exchanging their gifts on Christmas Eve just as I did with my sisters) and charm (the boys going to bed super early because they couldn’t take the anticipation any longer). So as much I am enjoying this more leisurely day, and I am, there’s the tiniest bit of melancholy. But as always tell the boys, grief is the inverse of your love, so it is always a good thing, no matter how painful. I think that goes for this little feeling of melancholy too.

And on a brighter note (?) from almost ten years ago at our house.

I’ve been spending some time going through the year’s pictures. It was a year of momentous changes as well as some lovely ordinary moments. I plan to sort through them in a series of posts over the next few days. It really helps me to look at where we’ve been to figure out where we are. It’s really the whole reason I write.

I feel as though we’ve just been wrapped in a big cinnamon roll of friendship this year.

What a gift.

So grateful to each and every one of you. Friends I know in person, friends I know online, and anyone that reads this, whether I know you or not.

Merry Christmas with love.

Cynthia

My current plan (thank you, Nan) is to make these weekly Biscuit Day posts free, and weekday posts will be behind the paywall (wince). I hope you subscribe to read my year end roundups.