Oh Damn, Guess What I Forgot?

I just got back from my last little run of Christmas errands. Some things are purposely left until the last minute...like fetching delicious bread from the bakery for tonight's soup supper (pumpkin chili this year). I put The Waitresses "Christmas Wrapping" on my iPod, since I was pretty sure it wouldn't be coming on NPR while I was out and about. That song always makes it feel like Christmas Eve.

The house looks like it blew up, all the packages need to be wrapped and I have to start the olive oil brioche for tomorrow night's dinner. Oh, and I have to be at the Cathedral by 4 at the latest to save seats for Mass. So yeah, I'm feeling a bit of a crunch right now. The Child set out to make a Buche de Noel for tomorrow. Her meringue mushrooms are very cute and the espresso chocolate filling is a dream. But her first attempt at rolling the log resulted in something very unloglike and for some reason her Swiss Buttercream frosting won't fluff so now she's just going to make a chocolate layer cake with the espresso filling and decorate with the mushrooms. But it will taste fantastic and the only thing that has her upset at the moment is the fact that The Dog managed to snag and chew on one of the sides of her gingerbread house. Oh well.

Time's a wastin' so I must scurry. But I do hope you have a lovely Christmas Eve. Don't forget the cranberries.

Holy Cats!! It's Snowing!!

Again.

I like pretending I live in Norway.

Gledelig Jul!

Twas 2 Days Before Christmas

You know I love my job, right?

Because today is the first time ever since I started working when I feel really pinched between what what I have now and what I used to have. To whit, a year ago I was at home, at leisure and busily making preparations for Christmas. This year the list in my head of things to do keeps getting longer. Last night, in the middle of the night, there was a lot of "oh, my yord, and another thing"...sorts of moments. (I had some awake time, what with the terrifying dream I had last night, so terrifying that The Spouse had to wake me up because I was crying out.
"What was the trouble", you kindly inquire? It's a tossup. In the dream I was watching a youth try to break into The Neighbor's house with a broom handle while I tried to call 911 on my cell because our phone line was out. But I was also 4 or 5 months pregnant and had missed all my prenatal visits, because apparently my subconcious self is the Queen of Denial. It was terrible).

Point is, tomorrow is Christmas Eve and there's stuff to do and up until this year that just ocassioned a day of happy hustle bustle as I put the finishing touches on celebrations but I don't know when I'm going to wedge in any of it now. Not to mention, everything is completely up in the air because the snow is still everywhere (except, you know, where it's turned to treacherous ICE) and no one really knows what this week is going to be like anyway. Will the next storm come as predicted? Because if it does, we won't be making it to church on Christmas Eve. Which will be the weirdest. thing. Ever. The last time we had a white Christmas we lived downtown and could walk to church. That's over.

"But," you say, being practical like you are, "you have all day Christmas Eve to decorate and start the brioche dough for Christmas morning and wrap the last of your presents. You'll even have time to clean the corners, start the soup and update Quicken. Silly goose".

"Nuh-uh," says me. "I have to work on Christmas Eve and so does The Spouse".

"Oh," says you, "that kinda sux".

"Yep," says me, "it really kinda does".

(Although I did forget to mention one good thing. In fact, I am about to praise George W. Bush. No. Really. He gave federal employees Friday off, with pay. Snaps to him. But that doesn't really resolve my pre-Christmas issues. Still, it was really nice of him).

Bottom line, I really wish I had today off because then all I have to do would feel like joyous hustle bustle and not a list of oh-mi-goshes.

On the other hand, I'm not really 5 months pregnant.

The Best Christmas Eve Ever

Fresh from the miracle of the Concierge Who Saved Christmas, we settled in to enjoy the rest of our evening, rife as it was with all the "things we usually do", which is the very definition of liturgy.

Lovely Mass with cherubic children in pink cassocks and white robes, singing gorgeous songs from all over the globe and the kind, generous spirit of Father R. There is something so profound in the way we celebrate that even if, in the run-up to Christmas Eve I haven't felt "it" yet, for sure the Christmas spirit will descend during that Mass.

The Spouse took the lake route home from the Cathedral so we could ooh and aah at Christmas lights and once at home we fired up all our own Christmas lights and dined on crusty Noel bread, butternut squash and apple soup (which I poured out of a carton from Trader Joe's and which tasted like heaven, thankyouverymuch) and a salad of mixed greens and pears in shallot vinaigrette.

We decorated the tree, with Hat in charge of noting where empty spots needed to be filled.

We followed our tradition of trekking outside to "the enchanting creche in the woods" and sang "Away in the Manger", then came inside to listen to Christmas music, drink gin and tonics (very appropriate, what with the piney scent of the gin) and enjoy the lights of the Christmas tree.

There is a silly song, originally recorded by Jona Lewie, called "Stop the Cavalry". Because it has the line "wish I was home for Christmas" it makes the play list of a local rock station's holiday extravaganza (they play the cover by the Cory Band but the original is better). Anypolka, the oompa beat of the song strikes The Spouse and I as terribly amusing and we dance to it, our own little ridiculous dance. But it's another one of those things that has become a thread in the fabric of our Christmas traditions. The fact that someone else was actually witness to it, well, that couldn't be helped.

(Warning: Right at the end I say a not too Christmas-y word and I'm ashamed and sincerely apologize. But I still have to play the video because it makes me laugh to hear Hat laughing).



The Child and I argued over who would read "The Night Before Christmas" (but I won because I'm the mom. Ha), then she was shooed to bed. This was a crucial year for The Child. She was in conflict. Of course, at nearly 14, she knows intellectually that Santa is a myth but she was very sad to think that admitting as much would mean the death of Christmas magic. There were many conversations about this, including some with Auntie Hat, and we did our best to assure her that no matter what we know, there is a beauty and magic to the season which we still feel every year. I wasn't sure this made her any happier but she put out a cookie and eggnog for Santa, an apple for the reindeer and bade us good night.

The adults had some more drinks, some more conversation and then realized with a start that it was midnight. We turned on the TV to watch the beginning of Midnight Mass at the Cathedral, getting all excited and pointy whenever we spotted The Neighbor singing in the choir. And then it was time for all good children, including the grown ones, to go to sleep.

The Concierge Who Saved Christmas

For 16 years we have been going to a very Grand Hotel for Christmas Eve. It is a lovely place, with richly panelled walls and a deep fireplace. It is always greened for Christmas with garlands and poinsettias and lights. It is a timeless place; when you enter the Fireside Room and sit back in one of the deep wingback chairs you feel like you could be anywhere - New York, Rome, London. Everything is hushed and elegant but it has never felt like an exclusive club; it might appear to be the sort of place that judges you by your shoe leather but the attitude is friendly, not snooty.Service is perhaps a tad slow but the experience is always pleasant. For 16 years, as I've said, we've marked important occasions there and even as our traditions have evolved we have never, ever missed a Christmas Eve. We order plates of little over-priced appetizers and drink expensive things and listen to the pianist or the Dickens' Carolers and have a grand, even somewhat magical, time.

The Grand Hotel has become an increasingly popular spot on Christmas Eve. As the years have gone on we've always congratulated ourselves on the fact that we now go there early to enjoy our preprandials before the 5:30 Mass. Because every year, as we leave, the room is full and a line is beginning to form. So it wasn't that much of a surprise to arrive this year and find that after 5pm they would only be seating parties with reservations. On the other hand, it was only 3pm, there were exactly 2 parties already seated and we were going to be out of there by 4:30. All of which I told the rather aloof hostess who finally bothered to greet us after a 10 minute wait.

"Well, I suppose you can have a seat", she replied.

This wasn't the greeting we expected or deserved but we found a large table and settled in. One of the other parties turned out to be people we knew so we greeted them with hugs and "Merry Christmas" and prepared to enjoy ourselves.

We waited to be brought menus. And waited. We were meeting David and Stina and I realized I didn't have their number in my new cell phone so went to the lobby to call The Neighbor to see if she had it. While I was on the phone, The Child came out and said, "Daddy wants to leave". I looked up and he was coming out with The Hat. He said something to the manager, something about "coming here for 16 years" and expressions of displeasure, which was met with a casual, "I'm sorry. Merry Christmas". At that moment David, Stina and their boys came through the door so we gathered them up and had a parlay in the courtyard.

Starbucks was suggested but dismissed by The Spouse. He didn't want coffee and a pastry. He wanted food, bowls of mussels and plates of satay. He wanted wine. (I admit, he is not nuanced in his frustration or displeasure and the consequent snarfiness of his demeanor cast a bit of a pall on the proceedings at that moment but objectively one can't blame him for wanting this meal to be what it historically was, an event, and not merely a way to pass time before Mass).

We decided to walk down the hill a few blocks to another hotel. The only real problem with this plan was that The Hat is not really up to such trekking and by the time we arrived she was quite sure that she would not be walking any where else that evening. I said a silent prayer that this would be our last stop.

We walked in and were greeted by the concierge, a young and fresh-faced youth whose brass name plate said "Erik"...with a k. We explained how we'd been essentially turned away from the Sorrento (Ha! they've been outed) and sought a little Christmas cheer.

"Well," he said thoughtfully, "our restaurant is closed and unfortunately the children can't be in the bar but" - and this is the important point- "let me see what I can do".

"Let me see what I can do". Not a fancy phrase but one which suggested that he understood that he was in the hospitality industry. He invited us to be seated in the lobby and went off to see to things.

It turned out like this: He had us order drinks and food in the bar and then set up a small table between our lobby chairs. He brought a carafe of cocoa for the children. He told the bartender he would serve us and brought out our lovely plates of satay and spring rolls, hummus and Buffalo wings (because really, is it Christmas without Buffalo wings?) We all sat cozily by the high windows, looking out onto the festive lights of the city streets, drinking our delicious drinks and nibbling on the very yummy food. We laughed, we enjoyed ourselves. Anger, frustration and irritation were banished and we had a joyous time.

Stina and I had to leave to save seats at church so we thanked Erik-with-a-K for his care. I gave him a big hug and told him he had saved Christmas and that we would be back next year. The lobby may not have been festooned in quite as elegant a fashion as it was at the Sorrento but it was clearly a more possessed of Christmas spirit.

Just before Mass started the rest of our party arrived, in high spirits. The plan had been to take a cab up to the Cathedral to spare The Hat from walking but, no. Erik-with-a-K had decided that he didn't want them to risk waiting on a cab so he drove them up in the hotel town car.

Was he tipped handsomely? Of course. And while I suspect that there may have been moments when he considered this possibility, I don't think that was the prime mover because he was genuine, thoughtful and, here's the key word, hospitable to us. And you know what? Even if everything he did was motivated by what he thought he'd be getting out of it, that doesn't change the fact that he took 2 families that were disappointed and filled them with Christmas cheer.

As I sat in Mass, listening again to the Christmas gospel, I realized we'd had a Biblical experience. 2 families, in search of succor, had been turned away from one inn but welcomed at another. There wasn't a restaurant, but Erik-with-a-K made us comfortable in the "stable" of the lobby, giving us a warm place to celebrate, blessing us with his kindness.

(If you're ever looking for a little sumpthin sumpthin in downtown Seattle, allow me to recommend the Madison Renaissance Hotel, 515 Madison St. The food is very nice, the drinks are lovely and the people even lovelier. But avoid the Sorrento. They can't be bothered).

Grish is Needy

It's Christmas eve and while he should be stuffing his children's stockings he's sitting around testing his new spyware or something that lets him know the moment someone posts on their blog. So let's see how good this stuff is, shall we?

Be careful, Grish. One of these days we might all decided to have a post-a-thon just to make you crazy.

Now leave a comment and then get back to your family.

Oh. Hello. Pot calling the kettle black, methinks!

Hey! John Lennon is on the radio. It bears repeating: Happy Xmas, War is Over ( if You Want It)!

Scenes from Christmas Eve

The Child, celebrating the arrival of the tree.


















The Child has a North Pole scene that plays music and has elves that move around on a conveyor belt. (This is a Christmas miracle story: one year, when Santa was real and capable of anything, all she wanted for Christmas was the North Pole. When I found this glorified music box in a shop I started to cry. She was 6 and when she opened it on Christmas morning she stood in shocked silence and then whispered, "That's exactly what I wanted!"). Anyhoo, The Dog finds it very confusing. He spent a lot of time this afternoon looking at it and barking at the elves.















We had a lovely time at the Posh Hotel and then Seattle Coffee Girl and I were off to hold our seats for mass. I love sitting in the quiet of the Cathedral, talking softly and watching the servers prepare for the feast.



















It was raining super hard when we left church. I was just thankful that we were going home to a warm, well-lit place. We had our traditional progress to the creche, which this year was hidden in the lavendar. (The rain had eased by this time). We sang "Away in the Manger" and then initiated a new tradition by parading to the Finger Tree, beautifully lit for the season.



















Much as I loved going to Midnight Mass, in the days before The Child, it is very pleasant to have our festal prayer taken care of and be back home before 8. There's time for soup and wine, time to finish decorating the tree and to listen to Christmas music on the radio. After a few days of non-stop doing it is good to be still and find the spirit of the season in the silence.

The goose is thawing, the brioche dough is rising and in a bit I'll crawl into bed and start reading A Christmas Carol, as I've done every Christmas Eve since I was about The Child's age. Maybe we'll stay awake long enough to watch the beginning of Midnight Mass, broadcast live from our church, on a local station. We do miss singing "Adeste Fideles". But no doubt by the time the Archbishop gets up to start one of his (generally) lugubrious homilies, we'll be nestled snug in our beds with that whole "visions of sugarplums" thing going on.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

It's The 80s: Christmas Eve Special

This one goes out to anyone who's still got some last minute shopping to do. Good luck.

Christmas Eve

I have so much cleaning and cooking to do before we leave to meet Seattle Coffee Girl and her husband for cocktails at the Very Posh Hotel. Then we'll go camp out at the Cathedral because we'll need to be there about 3:30 in order to have seats for the 5:30 mass. So what am I doing? Blogging, of course.

Maybe I think Christmas will magically occur without lifting a finger.

Probably not.

So I'll get to it.

Just wanted to wish you all a preliminary happy merry. Whatever you're doing today, whether it's putting on the final touches for the big day, gathering with friends and family, travelling or whatever, I hope all your holiday wishes come true.

Cue the Christmas music...and we're off.

Peace on Earth

The final video for today isn't strictly 80s but we've obviously fudged the rules a bit already so there you go. I do know that this artist released a terrific album in the 80s, round about this time of year, so that's good enough for me.

As for the message, well, that speaks for itself.