The day after Christmas is always a bit of a downer for me. I’m all about the preparation and the anticipation, and the actuality can’t begin to compare to the fantasy of ‘almost.’
Sigh.
But all is not completely lost, because the OTHER side of the family (his) will be arriving in a day or so and it will all begin all over again, and I can’t WAIT.
Well, yes I can, because the waiting is the best part for me. But, you know.
In the meantime, I’m baking more bread and making persimmon pudding and opening a new can of Clabber Girl for the quick breads (banana walnut and apple-cheese) and later tonight some date/raisin/pecan/banana/applesauce bread because Hub likes that, especially.
Zappa is still here (YAY, and I’ve made about a zillion mashed grilled cheese sandwiches and fried eggs) and while Belle had to go to work this morning (welcome to the wonderful world of adulthood, my baby daughter) she will be coming back down afterwards. Yes, my kids are home and I’m not leaving.
Downstairs in the freezer there is a huge pork tenderloin with “family reunion” written all over it. I’m going to thaw it, slice it into medallions, and throw them into the big crockpot with a sliced onion and some BBQ sauce. And when they’re done, and so tender you don’t even need a knife, I’ll arrange them on my Christmas platter and it will look like something I’ve worked on for HOURS. Try it, it’s wonderful. I do love cooking for a big crowd; it’s one of my favorite things to do.
As for me and my loot presents, I made out pretty well this year. Hub gave me a digital camera, a stereo receiver from the discount table at the pawn shop, and half-interest in a garage door opener, and my kids went together and got me an air hockey table.
I am no sportsman, as most of you know, but I do love a good game of killer air hockey. Zappa is setting it up for me as I type. He has warned me that he himself loves a good killer match but I might have a little surprise for him when we begin our game. Momy shows no air hockey mercy, not even to her little boy. I figure, if your knuckles aren’t bleeding half-way through the first game, you’re not really taking it seriously.
The only difference between me and a professional killer air hockey player is that I will run downstairs and play a few rounds, then run back upstairs to knead and shape bread loaves. Then I’ll run back downstairs, pound a few more pucks into my opponent’s knuckles, and then go back upstairs to make cookies. And so on, you get the picture. If you need continuous play, play with someone else. If you want awesome albeit sporadic play, do me. So to speak.
It was a good Christmas. It was a lovely, wonderful Christmas. I love my family so very much. And when the Michigan contingent gets here, it will be a lovely, wonderful Christmas all over again, because I love Hub’s family so very much, too.
Now, back to my kitchen, where I can now listen once again to my music, pumped up and shaking the walls, while I bake. It wasn’t much fun to cook in silence.
But then, nothing is much fun with total silence. I loves me my CHAOS.