Remember I said yesterday, "this can't be all"? Well, it wasn't. We got about three or four inches of fluffy snow overnight, there was a lull, and then it started snowing big, Hollywood flakes around 10 o'clock as soon as I went out to snowblow last night's contribution to the storm total. It's still snowing, a nice steady snowfall (but dry and fluffy, no good for snowman-making), so if we add up the 2" that fell Friday morning plus the 3.5" from overnight, we're halfway to the predicted 10-12" by midnight tonight. And then tomorrow the bottom's supposed to drop out of the thermometer and the wind will pick up to blow all this pretty fluffy stuff around like crazy. I'm so glad I live here in this frozen wonderland. I was surprised to see icicles on the streetlight when I went out to see if the newspaper was here (it still isn't) and the neighborhood looked kind of like a Christmas card. Pretty, but cold. Good thing the Yule Log is "on demand" on cable so even if it doesn't make heat I can have a crackling fire while I decorate today.
Yesterday afternoon I stirred together a batch of Olive & Nut Spread. Too bad it didn't all fit into the 2 pint jars I had ready so Durwood and I will have to make the supreme sacrifice and eat the little bit that went into the olive jar. Oh dear.
This morning I made the English Toffee. Here it is melting the extra-dark chocolate chips before I spread the ooey-gooey stuff out to harden. Yum.
Then I got out the porcelain Nativity set that Mom and Dad made to put on top of the TV, away from curious little hands. Then I took down the watercolor of the tree in front of Durwood's old house and hung St. Nick, took down the papyrus and hung up Scrooge, took down the St. Maarten scene and hung up the palm frond Rudolf, and hung the jingle bell wreath on the garage door handle so small people can jingle at will. Later I'll bring up the tree and ornaments so Durwood and I can get it up and decorated. Or I'll put it up while he naps. Either way, the tree's going up today.
Speaking of the Nativity set, when Mom was making a raft of them for gifts for the family years and years ago, she would bring home the greenware so we could all help clean off the mold marks before the first firing. Dad would always clean the donkey first and when he was finished, he'd set it down and say, "Thank god, I finally got my ass clean." We'd all laugh and groan. Now my donkey's name is Dad and I tear up a little every time I unwrap it. I think I'll write out that little story on a tiny piece of paper and stuff it up in the hole on the bottom of the statue so in the future that story will live on.
December 17--Cary D. Bucklin, Girl in Warm Light. Shea sat on the bench holding her right foot. There wasn't anything wrong with her foot, she just held it in her hand. Light wrapped around her like a blanket and shimmered on the pool at her feet, er, foot. Orange and silver fish cruised the pond pausing to gape at her hoping for food, she supposed, but she didn't have even a crust of bread to offer them. Did fish eat bread, she wondered. Probably not. Bread didn't grow underwater. Maybe the orange and silver fish ate insects. She had seen on a nature show that one kind of fish spit water at flies so they would fall into the water so the fish could eat the flies. Shea wished she could spit. She tried but just ended up with a wet shirt.
It's still snowing but I won't go out to clear the car and driveway again until it stops or starts to get dark, whichever comes first. Stay warm.