Normal is good for no other reason than if I have to eat another big meal...Really, I am good for a week. Maybe three.
My mom's Christmas is all about cooking for us. She loves to prepare the feast, and feast we do. There are platters of meats and dressings, bowls of vegetables, galores of salads. And when we are done with the main course there are trays of cookies and squares, each tray with a different selection of delicacies. There was pie and ice cream and strawberries and then...if you were really really good, you could have coffee or tea, but only if you had some chocolate first.
My mom was born to cook for a family of hundreds, and though we are not hundreds, we work as hard as we can to eat like it to please her. She has a superb sense of timing and the taste buds of a spring chicken. Nothing is ever overdone or needs just a little more salt. It is all better than good, it is moms.
If blogs had a taste feature, I would insert it here so all of you could have a taste of what my mom cooks up. If we could share it over the Internet, we could leave the table looking a little more like the hot young Henry the VIII from the Tudors mini series, than the aged Henry we look like. Her meal is medieval in its scope and though we may groan after it, we look forward to it every year.
I had a lovely Christmas. I received a bouquet of knitting needles, the kind where the tips light up on the end and a gift certificate for yarn from son 3 and his wife. The needles are going to be just the ticket for working in twilight and dim light in front of the big TV.
From son 2 I received a complete set of Mr. Bean. Mr. Bean, my hero, plus the Vinyl Cafes Christmas CD. From son 1, the complete Firefly which really ought to have been kept on the air. It would have been a massive success and I hope that there are a few executives out in TV land gnashing their teeth at their collective stupidity.
From Mr. Needles, some very lovely things. Yarn, of course, and some silver stitch markers. The stitch markers are part of a year long marker event, one for each month, each of them unique and handmade by a local artist. I was behind and Mr. Needles caught me up.
Besides all the wonderful food and great company over the last week, there was a lot of knitting time. Just for me knitting time. I knit some on the black socks, which, though not for me, will be wonderful to get out of my work bag. I finished the first of the pair of socks of Socks that Rock 'Aline' and am well on the way to the cuff on the second.
And then there was this. Mr. Needles gave me a hank of Woolie Silk from Fleece Artist. It is the colour of wheat in the field and oh my I love it. It hung at the shop sort of overlooked among all the other Fleece Artist finery, its soft golden waves of colour sitting quietly waiting for someone to discover them. He did, and I have benefitted. It was just the right gift for an old farm girl.
I'm working it up into a small shawl. The 'Eye of Partridge Shawl' caught my attention quite a while ago, and now that I am working on it, whoooeeeee. Its a wonderfully speedy mindless knit that yields such lacy goodness. These last longer rows may feel like they take more time, but the knit one slip one side goes so fast, that its hard not to think you are only doing purl rows. I'm working this up on larger then usual needles for the yarn, but it is making the most delicious fabric. The yarn and the colour are so right for this and the fabric is soft and comfortable and lofty. Sigh. It is all good.
And here we are, 8:00 a.m., and I am going to have to rush off to make it to work on time. Happy Knitting. I can't think of a nicer way for a year to wind down than spending it knitting.