Sunday, December 25, 2011
As most of you have already read, Christmas didn't turn out in the least as I planned, being pretty much immobile and in a lot of discomfort with the blown out knee, not able to visit family or friends out of town. But with the warm thoughts of friends, and a couple of companions who refuse to leave my side, it turned out just fine.
To all of you who sent cards and packages, thank you. I'm sitting in some warm and fuzzy outer wear, with slippers and a cup of coffee from my new Kureg coffee machine, books to read (Red Green!), and new videos to watch (Wallace and Gromit with the nefarious penguin, my favorite). And last night, there was wine in new hand painted stemless wine glasses from friends up North, while we listened to the seasons strains of Metallica with the SFO Symphony orchestra (what, you were expecting Burl Ives?)
Santa Paws even remembered Barkley, with a stuffing free fox to mangle and a giant squeaky ball with feet (why yes, Barkley that IS annoying).
Even better, Santa got me a BACON PRESS!!! Breakfast pastry had been premade and frozen so all there was to do to make Christmas breakfast was heat up a new cast iron skillet and tools and get out the Amish Bacon that Midwest Chick and Mr. B brought down for me.
I couldn't do church, I can't even get in and out of the tub without a chair, a crutch and some serious cursing in Norwegian, but I wanted a traditional breakfast even if it took help. Such treats are always a good memory for me.
When I was a kid, we'd usually waffles, abelskivvers or pancakes for Sunday breakfast, but sometimes we'd have them for dinner as well. It was usually when the household budget was tight. My Mom quit her 13 year career as a LEO to be a full time Mom, and Dad took a lesser paying position that allowed him to be home every night. Sacrifices I know we benefited from. Certainly I remember those dinners and the laughter and the love that lived in the house 24 and 7, more than any brand new bike I didn't get.
My brothers and I loved "pancake night". Dad would grumble a little. . unless there was Bacon. Bacon I think could solve any problem. World peace. Through Bacon. Oh wait, well maybe not, but it sounds like a plan.
With or without bacon, I can sit and eat some fluffy, maple infused goodness, and watch the sun go up or down and the taste will take me back.
Sometimes Mom would make two kinds. Sourdough and regular. Or some with nuts and apples, or little bits of sausage inside, along with buttermilk ones. There would be maple syrup, and genuine Lingonberry Jam and real butter from the farm nearby.
Little bits, little bites to try them all. Dad would finally relax after a long stressful day at work, and we'd tell the tales of our day and small childhood victories. For these breakfasts for dinner, no worries about money, or the mortgage or the future. Simply bites of life shared with those you love. I'd savor one flavor, even while anticipating the next, savory, sweet, maybe nutty, the golden disks disappearing like coins well spent. I was never able to figure out which taste I wanted to end with, one taste of time that was almost too sweet to bear, or that which was so dense that I would remember it always.
Like pancakes for dinner, such was this Christmas, unexpected, not ending as planned, but full of little bits of sweetness and caring from those that have become my family.
I usually try and leave comments for all of you on your blogs or send emails but just this little bit has worn me out. Just know that I am thinking of you, even if we are apart, even if I don't say so today. Remember every gift you have, that we all are to each other, through good times and bad. For that is what friends and family are for.
Tis the Season.