As I recall, for whatever reason, I don’t think I did much baking at Christmas last year. I made up for lost time this year, having baked several batches of biscotti, a couple of rounds of shortbread, some chocolate peppermint cookies (that were YUM), peanut butter blossoms, and my personal favorite — M&M cookies (which become Christmas cookies when you use red and green candies. I don’t think that’s cheating. I’m firm on that.)

We’ve sipped eggnog (well, I sipped eggnog; Bill drank it in about three gulps and had a second glass), and we’ve enjoyed our morning coffee in holiday mugs. I heard a performance of Handel’s Messiah. We’ve enjoyed our own and others’ Christmas lights. All-in-all, it’s been an enjoyable holiday season thus far. I, for one, am happy about the fair weather. I can live forever without a white Christmas, I don’t care what Bing has to say about that.

Yesterday I did a Christmas activity that really reminded me of my dad, and the bakery at Christmastime. I baked Swiss Butter Braid. Butter braid is a traditional braided loaf that the Swiss call Zopf, and that my dad sold a lot of at the bakery during the Christmas season. I learned about Zopf via lots of time spent on the internet. I had trouble finding it. The problem was that any time I would google butter braid, google would feed me recipes for braided coffee cakes. My dad’s bread isn’t sweet. It’s just good and buttery.

I frankly can’t remember how I finally stumbled upon a recipe for Zopf. It was several years ago. I tried it at once and was not awed by my result. But this year I gave it another try. Bill’s nurse happened to be sitting at our kitchen table yesterday when I pulled it from the oven. As I was doing so, I explained to her that bread baking wasn’t my strong suit. She was unconvinced, and here’s why…..

Because friends, it turned out to be a perfect loaf of bread, and I’m pretty sure my dad was smiling down on me. And my mom was gritting her teeth, recalling just how many yards of crinkled ribbon she had to curl to close the bags.

By the way, I also recalled my dad yesterday as Bill worked diligently to get my new computer up and running. We bought a program that transferred all of my data from my old computer to my new so that it would be exactly the same. And it mostly is except that web sites like Facebook or Pinterest require me to sign on again which means I have to remember passwords. This is where my memories of dad came in— in my complete and total lack of patience. Bill is so kind and patient, and he had to remind me on numerous occasions that we would get it all figured out. And I’m sure we will. But I am simply not a fan of change. I had to remind myself again and again that I was the proud owner of a BRAND NEW COMPUTER, as well as that Santa was watching my little mini temper tantrums.

By the way, while trying to figure out how to access Facebook on my new computer, I somehow managed to create a whole new account in addition to the one I already have. So unlike those FB messages you see explaining that they have been hacked, I am forced to admit that I have hacked myself. Like Scarlet O’Hara, I will think about it tomorrow. Just don’t be surprised if you get a friend request from me. And then, just ignore it. You don’t want a friend as cranky as me anyway.

For my birthday, Bill bought me a new computer. I got tired of hearing the death rattle emanating from my old computer. My new computer has the same sized screen as the old jalopy, but is thinner and weighs considerably less. And it is my sincere hope that it takes less time to open up each morning and doesn’t take half a day to download information when opening a website. Yes, I know that it wasn’t that long ago that we were writing with ink and feather quills, but now that I’m 65, I’m honing my cranky skills.

The problem with new technology is that it’s new technology. Therefore, we (and when I say we, I mean Bill) needs to figure out how to transfer the information from the Old Man to the Young Whippersnapper. Thus, we have this happening…

….and we are keeping our fingers crossed.

Jen came to Denver Saturday and cooked my birthday dinner. We relived the 50’s, imagining what Mom might have made for my birthday dinner. Here was the menu Jen prepared: an old school relish tray, breaded pork chops, Brussels sprouts, and Swiss Mac and cheese……

Breaded chops sizzling in the pan.

Dessert was a rare treat when we were growing up, But one that Mom served asa special treat was date nut roll that came in a can with real whipped cream. They apparently no longer make canned date nut rolls, so Jen made a date cake from scratch.

Jen and I pose with our relish tray.

Winston makes friends with Bill.

By tomorrow, it is my sincere hope that my new computer is fully operational and I don’t have to write my post using one finger on my iPad.

Yesterday I turned 65. I remember when I thought only really old people were 65, but now it’s me. I feel no different than I did on Friday!

To celebrate my birthday, our family gathered at Dave and Jll’s house, where we ate pizza and salad. The high point, however, was after dinner, when the whole gang participated in the making and decorating of Christmas cookies…..

Maggie Faith, Kaiya, and Mylee get ready to hunker down and make themselves some cookies.

Alastair was pretty particular with his batch, and I’m pretty sure he ate them all.

Addie and Allen are carefully working on making cookies shaped like biology experiments. Go figure.

Maggie gets ready to put her first batch in the oven.

Dave, Court, and Bill started the ball rolling by softening up the dough for the kids.

Some of the results, courtesy of Mylee.

And, of course, she made a monkey!

You may have noticed a few missing grands. Dagny was feeling the effects of an injury she received at school. She was there, but escaped Nana’s camera. As for Cole, he has been feeling punk the past few days and wasn’t able to come to the party. His sisters made sure he got some cookies, however…..

I had a wonderful birthday, spent with people I love. Thanks to everyone who helped make my day special.

Have a great weekend.

Piddling Penny-Pinching
As I have already mentioned, Jen got a new puppy that she named Winston. Despite the fact that Winston is three-quarters poodle and only a quarter Yorkie, he looked more like a Winston than a Jacque. Anyhoo, when she picked him up, the breeder told her that he was nearly housebroken using what she called a piddle pad. She suggested that Jen continue using that method of housebreaking. But she went on to say that when she orders them from Amazon, she orders piddle pads for humans. Why? Though they are exactly the same, the pads for dogs are significantly more expensive. Apparently people are more willing to pay hard-earned cashola for their dogs than for Grandma.

It’s a Lego! It’s a Robot!
My eight-year-old granddaughter Mylee has liked playing with Legos since she could fit them together. At 3 years old, she was building complex vehicles and buildings using my meager Lego supply. So it’s not surprising that she has been participating in an after-school Lego Robotics class. Last Saturday was the day that they shared their hard work with the public. Mylee was proud to show me the results of her team’s — the Super Rainbow Robotics — hard work…..

Next year she moves into the competitive category.

It’s a Bargain
While I am embarrassed at how much food I waste, there is something deep within me that won’t allow me to pass up a Buy One-Get One Free item. The other day, I was purchasing whole nutmeg, because EGGNOG. The problem was, the only brand the store offered was McCormick’s whole nutmeg, and it was Buy One-Get One Free. Dang. I won’t go through even one jar before the expiration date, but I simply couldn’t leave the store with only one. I’m going to start seeing who among my friends and family would like a free jar of whole nutmeg. Any takers?…..

Cheers
Though a faithful wine drinker, Jen came across an interesting whiskey that she allowed me to taste the other day. The liquor’s developer is a country singer — John Rich — who apparently decided one shouldn’t have to take out a second mortgage to drink tasty whiskey. Friends, it was delicious. Now if I can just find Redneck Riviera Whiskey somewhere near one of my two homes……

Trash
Since I’ve been buying most everything online (and have managed to avoid getting any of my packages pilfered by porch pirates), there are many, many boxes that we have to find a way to fit into our recycling bin. Bill spent an hour the other day cutting up boxes. Bless his heart…..

Lettuce Pray
I’m delighted to see lettuce back in the grocery store. They promise me that it comes from farms that aren’t producing lettuce with e-coli. Should I believe them?

Ciao.

One thing that I’ve noticed this Christmas season is that there appears to be a lot of tension in the air among the people with whom I interact. Especially people who are driving. For one thing, there seem to be so many more people on the streets and highways at this time of year. Maybe I’m just getting old (well, actually, there’s no “maybe” about that. My Medicare card flashes its ugly face at me every time I open my billfold. Maybe I need to move it to the back where it’s hidden by my Costco card).

On several occasions since Thanksgiving, I have observed and/or experienced some really bad driving choices made by others. I’m blaming the millennials because I blame them for everything. For example, the other day when Bill and I were driving to his monthly doctor’s appointment, we were at a red stoplight. Suddenly, the car behind us shot off to the right of me on the two-lane street and went straight through the red light. Yikes, I said to Bill. Since we’re only a few  blocks from a hospital, let’s give him the benefit of the doubt and believe that he is taking his wife to the hospital to deliver their baby.

In our show of unfrenziness, yesterday, Bill and I drove to Fort Collins to have our annual Christmas lunch with Jen, my stepmother Shirley, and my nephew B.J. Normally, we celebrate and exchange our gifts at a restaurant. This year, however, Jen wanted to introduce us all to her newest little buddy, Winston, a Yorky Poo puppy who is no bigger than a minute and unimaginably cute. He took a liking to Shirley, and neither seemed frenzied at all…..

As usual, we had a lot of fun and shared a lot of laughs. Jen made delicious sandwiches that involved ham and swiss cheese and Hawaiian rolls. She also prepared Mom’s broccoli soup (though our brother Dave would say it wasn’t Mom’s soup because Mom used slices of American cheese and I’m pretty sure I tasted Gruyere cheese in Jen’s. No worries, however. I’m petty sure Mom would approve of Gruyere cheese because who wouldn’t)?…..

On our way home after lunch, Bill requested that we stop at the Duluth Trading Company that he had noticed when we were driving towards Fort Collins earlier in the day. I was happy to oblige because shopping is not Bill’s thing, so I knew he must have seriously wanted to check out the store.

There have been numerous times when Bill has accompanied me to stores that I enjoy. Big fancy grocery stores. Stores specializing in kitchen and other home goods. Mexican or Asian markets. He generally lasts about 15 minutes and then starts saying things like so, you about ready to go? That’s kind of the way I felt at the Duluth Trading Company. But I bit my tongue because that’s how I roll. Ha! Anyway, as he perused the store from top to bottom, I spent most of my time reading the Thomas J. Glover Pocket Reference Guide, a little black book from which it appears you can find out anything about everything. Not that I remember anything I read.

Bec and I agree that we think the frenetic pace of Christmas shoppers this year is because Thanksgiving was so early. It simply FEELS like you are behind in your shopping because the season has been going on so long.

Calm down, peeps. When December 24 rolls around, if you haven’t finished your shopping, simply do what Alex P. Keaton (played fabulously by Michael J. Fox) of Family Ties fame did: go to 7 Eleven and buy everyone Bic pens.

The low point of my day yesterday hit early, somewhere in the neighborhood of 6 a.m. As I have told you all many times, I’m an early riser. Not being up and at ’em until 6 means I slept in. Being so well rested, I was off to a cheerful start. But when I settled at the table with my cup of coffee, Google fed me the sad news: there is strife amongst the British royal family. Sadly, according to some news sources, Princess Kate and Duchess Meghan are bickering. Yes, my friends, some sources are admitting that the Duchess of Sussex might just be a pain in the ass. Or perhaps I should say arse, it being Great Britain and all.

Some news sources are reporting that members of the duchess’ staff are fleeing like General Cornwallis during the Siege of Yorktown. Why? Because she is reportedly meaner than the Grinch. And Prince Harry is going along with it. Yes dear, he has been heard to say. You know if Meghan — oops, I mean the duchess — is being defended by her father, who was forced to have a heart attack so the monarchy had a reason to prevent him from showing up at the church, things are serious.

Prince William and Princess Kate have reportedly installed a peek hole in the door of their apartment in Kensington Palace so they can make sure not to answer if Meghan stops by to borrow a cup of sugar…..

Doesn’t it look like they’re both gritting their teeth?

The whole thing made me happy that I didn’t get up early to watch their wedding like I did when Charles married Diana. Instead, I recorded it so that I could fast-forward through the boring parts, which was nearly everything except for the chorus that sang Stand By Me and the minister who I suspect was sent to the Tower of London soon after the wedding was over. Using the same numeral references as Americans use for President George H.W. Bush and President George W. Bush — that being 41 and 43 — the queen was heard to say if 1 could send people to the Tower, so can 2.

When you’re up on a pedestal as high as Meghan and Harry have been, the fall from grace is an even more difficult tumble.  I’m reserving judgment, however. After all, let’s face it. The first trimester of pregnancy can make anyone cranky. After having to pee 10 or 12 times during a single ball, smiling at your skinny sister-in-law might make you grumpy. And then, as your stomach becomes larger and larger — oops, I mean, your baby bump gets bumpier — and you have to look at Princess Kate in her size 0 dresses, it’s enough to annoy even a duchess. Or, at a minimum, scream at your lady-in-waiting……

Harry to Meghan: Ha! Kate is dragging toilet paper from her panties. Let’s not tell her.

And then, of course, there’s all the pressure to make your appearance wearing stilettos and a clean dress five minutes after you give birth because KATE DID IT! You really want to sit at home eating frozen yogurt and cheese balls, but nooooo, you have to make an appearance within seconds of cutting the cord so you can’t gain more than two pounds…..

Anyway, the whole thing makes me realize that royalty or not, being pregnant can be as hard on a duchess as it is on you and me. Just concentrate on the real meaning of Christmas, Duchess.

O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum,
wie treu sind deine Blätter.
Du grünst nicht nur zur Sommerzeit,
Nein auch im Winter, wenn es schneit.
O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum,
wie treu sind deine Blätter.

Lyrics: Ernst Anschütz, 1824
Melody: Volksweise (traditional)

My dad, when asked, always maintained that his favorite Christmas carol was O Tannenbaum, or better known to us as O Christmas Tree. That particular carol has never done much for me, I will admit. It doesn’t speak about the birth of Christ, but I don’t hold that against it. It just isn’t snappy enough for my taste. Not like I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas (Only a Hippopotamus Will Do). But I guess if you are of Swiss descent and heard your mom and dad speaking that language as you grew up, you would be a bit nostalgic about a song with German ties.

Here’s what I do know, however: Christmas trees were always a big part of our holiday tradition.

My siblings might be able to correct me, but I don’t think Mom and Dad had a fake Christmas tree the entire time that they had kids at home. And longer than that, I believe. We didn’t go traipsing out into the country with an ax and cut down a tree. We weren’t the tree-cutting-down type. But we did have a family tradition of going to Earl’s Garden Center in Columbus and picking out a big Christmas tree that would then be delivered to our house.

In my early years, we decorated the tree with colored lights and tinsel and ornaments collected throughout the years. At some point when we were all a bit older, Mom and Dad began to get their Christmas tree flocked; that is, sprayed with some sort of chemical that looked like snow, (and probably caused cancer). At that point, we began accenting the tree in red, heavy on the candy canes. I’m pretty sure that tradition stopped when they picked up and moved to Colorado. But they still had a live tree.

I don’t have a live tree. In fact, as the years have gone by, my trees have decreased in number and size. I used to have big trees in the family room, the living room, and the kitchen (decorated with cooking-related ornaments). But since we leave for AZ on Christmas, we make it easy on ourselves and just put up a small tree in the living room (for my angels) and a really small tree in our family room, so we can enjoy the lights…..

When Court was a baby, however, we always had a live tree. The Christmas after I became single, I was determined to keep up traditions for Court’s sake. Court and I went and picked out a live Christmas tree. I then had to struggle to get it home, drag it inside, and try (unsuccessfully) to saw the bottom off of the tree. By this time I was crying real tears and poor 5-year-old Court was looking forlorn. So much for keeping up every single tradition. From then on, it was a fake tree for this girl.

The Christmas trees they are selling at my nearby grocery store are becoming fewer and fewer. The other day I saw someone driving a car with a tree on top, and it looked like a Christmas card. It made me smile.

Here’s my favorite Christmas tree story: When Court was a toddler — maybe 3 years old — we were at my dad and mom’s house in Frisco, CO. Nestled among the ornaments of their Christmas tree were numerous candy canes. Court was instructed NOT TO TOUCH THOSE CANDY CANES. Later that evening, I spotted him, hands to his sides, leaning over and licking one of the candy canes that hung on the tree. He was technically following the rules — he wasn’t “touching” the candy canes. 3-year-old logic. He was following the spirit of the law. The Christmas spirit, that is.

Dad, I hope you are singing a chorus of O Tannenbaum with Grammie and Gramps in heaven.

I already provided my readers with my thoughts on the Elf on the Shelf in this blog post. But whatever makes Christmas more fun for kids is alright with this nana.

Having said that, something happened to one of my grandkids this past week that I have not seen before. It happened, of course, to 4-year-old Cole…..

Because seriously, who else?

One morning last week, his sister Kaiya sent me a text with this photo attached…..

Who knew that there was a Department of Elf Surveillance? Apparently Wally-the-Elf took umbridge at the fact that Cole tested Wally’s patience by sending him flying off his shelf in one fell swoop.

His mommy attested to the fact that within a nanosecond of the incident, Cole was repentant. “I’m sorry, Mommy,” he immediately said. “Tell that to Wally,” was her response.

Sorry or not, he has gotten his one-and-only warning. Time alone will tell whether Cole gets, well, coal in his stocking.

Have a great weekend.