light and flaky: December 2007

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

A Boxing Day Whore

A good number of years back I swore that I would never go shopping on boxing day again. Several things contributed to that decision, including not being a big fan of crowds, wanting to spend time with family instead, the book “How to Be Free” and the fact that I never bought anything I really ‘needed’ anyway. The older I get, the more that last one comes into play on a daily basis.

We had a fantastic Christmas day (if a little excessive in the gift department) thanks to my parents and their exceptional hosting abilities. My mother tried something new this year and made the turkey a day before. Once cooked, you slice it, layer it with lettuce and then refrigerate it. You then simple add a touch of broth and reheat it when needed. Tender and juicy Oh My God! There were of course, all the trimmings – turnip, mashed potatoes, beans, coleslaw, stuffing and canned peas (a family tradition that some won’t let go).

My contribution was the Christmas pudding. Unfortunately I soaked it in a little too much rum and when my niece and I set it ablaze, it burned for a LONG time. As I cut into it, the flames just had more surface area to cover and more fuel. We managed to get it under control and once the brandy butter and rum sauce were added, it was sinfully delicious.

Nothing says Christmas like gambling and after dinner and a snowball fight, we all settled down around the rumoli board. I was out about $12 at the end, my sister even more while CJ waddled up the hill to her parents, her pockets padded with ill-gotten gain. I had debated getting up early on boxing day and going out to look for two things I ‘needed’ – a flat screen TV and a Persian carpet.

Suffice it to say, my “No Boxing Day” shopping rule is firmly back in place. And I still have neither of those ‘must have’ items. In the morning, as I ate oatmeal at my parents table, my mother commented on the ‘whore frost’ (and I know it is spelt hoar, but that is no fun!) that covered the trees. I protested loudly at the use of such language in the presence of my virgin ears (and my niece was there too). But apparently, that is the proper name for it. Whore Frost, Sluts Wool – whatever happened to such simple times. Ahhhhhhh.

I wisely waited until everyone was up so we could have one more visit before my brother and his family headed off for another Christmas feast, my sister loaded her cats in the car and my parents finally got to put their feet up. I then foolishly headed to Best Buy, Leons and IKEA. As I said, never again. As I drove out of Fergus, and eventually down the escarpment, the frost faded. But while it lasted, it was truly a beautiful sight.

Next year, and every year going forward, if mother nature will be so kind as to indulge me, I will sit home and enjoy what she puts on display. So much better I think.

I hope you all had a very Merry Christmas and were wiser than I and avoided the malls and saved your shekels.

Monday, December 24, 2007

Singing in the rain

Not seven days ago we were subjected to a blast of winter – almost a foot of snow over the course of the weekend. “Oh how wonderful” I thought “after many years without, we are finally going to have a white Christmas”. But apparently not. Yesterday the temperature shot up to 9 and it rained all day.

Some of the larger snow banks managed to remain, but there is now as much green on the ground now as there is white. It is amazing how quickly things can change with the weather (and yet those fools is Bali did nothing when they had the chance) and yesterday we saw the temperature fall from its rainy high to -4.

I had to venture out in the rain though to get coffee for the boyfriend. Not a drinker of java myself combined with the fact that I am the owner of a coffee pot with a broken carafe, I had to go fetch. My parents were also coming over for brunch to celebrate their anniversary and my dad’s birthday and I thought I might at least be able to find a French press. Not so much on a Sunday morning. We made do with Kwazulu tea.

Sticking my head out the door, I noted it was not only raining, it was pouring (though there was no old man snoring) AND cold. In place of a street, a small river flowed by. Not a fan of cold feet I stepped into my Wellingtons, popped open my Harrod’s umbrella and slipped on my rain slicker.

As I headed towards Rocket Fuel to get a cup-of-Joe for the Boyfriend, I found myself side stepping puddles; at first. I then noticed a few other people in sneakers and dress shoes climbing over melting snow drifts and jumping from the sidewalk over puddles and into the street in a vain effort to keep their feet dry. “What silly pants they are” I thought “doesn’t anyone own proper boots anymore?” It then dawned on me that I was wearing such boots and that I didn’t need to worry about keeping my feet dry.

For the rest of my java journey I happily splashed through the water and actually enjoyed the rain. Truthfully, I don’t care what type of precipitation we get as long as it falls. Our poor rivers and lakes are in such need. I watched the rain fall around the edges of my umbrella and knowing my melon was dry, was very comforting. What little of it was blown onto my coat simply ran down the black rubber and onto the street.

I found myself taking a longer route home so I could enjoy the downpour (sorry if your coffee was a little cold). As I tucked my boots back in the closet, I found myself looking forward to the next time I get to break them out!