I am missing my Elvis Christmas tonight! (Or should I say, "I am missin' me some Elvis Christmas"?) There have been many Christmases in my life, of all different sorts, in all sorts of locations, but the Elvis "Blue Christmas" album has been a constant. My sister and I could sing along with it in both 33 and 45 rpm. I'm thinking about that tonight as Mike and I ice these impromptu sugar cookies.
What about this guy? Rabbit? Sheep? Deer? Moose?
I had a plan early in the week to start a rich beef stew this morning so that by Christmas Eve we'd be curled up on the sofas with our tummies full of cozy comfort food. I bought all the ingredients in advance, and planned not to go to the store again this week. But somehow the day got away from me (including two trips to the store) and we ended up having cheese, wine and bread for dinner, after an aperitif of rum-laced eggnog. Then we got into decorating the cookies and it was too late for anything else. Such is the Christmas eve of the kidless. Still have to finish shtitching (typo or wine?) the letters on Pixie's stocking, since this is her very first Christmas and she almost didn't get one.
I have been thinking a lot about the things that I remember from Christmases past. Skiing, and hot chocolate back at Grandma's house. Mom's gingerbread. Singing the Elvis Christmas songs with my sister. Flannel nightgowns borrowed from Grandma. Heavy woolen quilts on the living room floor. In later years, Mom's clam chowder. Morning bacon, mimosas or bloody marys at Dad's (whatever else you think of them, Southerners do know how to liquor up a holiday). There is much, much more, but my husband is watching television by himself on Christmas Eve, and I just can't continue to let that happen. Maybe more tomorrow.
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