I never celebrated Christmas as a kid, but I knew about all the usual traditions involved. As one comic writer I love put it, "Jesus was born in a manger, so we go shopping at Macy's." Yes, a hapless tree, poisonous holly, and parasitic mistletoe to dupe chaste women into osculating.
It didn't make sense as a child, it still doesn't makes sense.
BUT my hubby loves Christmas, despite his mother being Jewish and coming from what was, for all intents and purposes, a Jewish family, albeit not a strict one as I learned one Christmas evening when his mother told me we were having ham for dinner.
His parents were coming up for Christmas, and since our place is far larger than my uncle-in-law's tiny bachelor pad, it was my duty to provide a Christmas dinner.
Um... great! I know nothing about Christmas dinners.
And if we didn't look properly festive, oy ve, watch out!
The Tree:
We spent money we didn't really have for all the obligatory accouterments of the season: poor tree, plastic wreath, stockings from Dollar Tree, in fact, most of our things came from the Dollar Tree. The ice storm we had the week earlier snapped off a lot of pine branches, so I cut off a few and put sprigs around the house. Gotta admit, the place smells marvelous!
One thing I can say: trees and cats don't mix! Sumo (aka Capone) body-slams everything, and Ninja (aka Stetson) attempts sneak attacks on anything that moves/doesn't move/might-possibly-in-this-century move.
My hubby is a major Trekkie, and for years, his parents would get him the annual Star Trek ornament. Therefore, half our ornaments comprised of starships, Borg cubes, various captains, shuttle crafts, and alien ships. There are plenty of music-related things to hang up as well, stuff I've collected because it was adorable and my traditionalist hubby insisted were really supposed to be ornaments. Whatever. I've learned, when it comes to some issues, just make a man happy.
Thus we had our dead tree. I have to throw it out in two days for the apartment's recycling deadline, but I'm holding onto that thing for the moment. It was sacrificed for the sake of archaic pagan tradition, but it makes one heck of an air freshener. I'm going to keep some sprigs around, considering the ones I gathered for Christmas dinner have dried out. At least the life of that lovely little tree brought happiness for a fleeting moment.
Okay, enough of me being emo over the evergreen. Worse things are done in the name of religion and tradition than the existence of tree farms.
The Dinner:
Dinner with the in-laws went well. We still had lots of snow, so that afternoon we slushed out to Summerlake Park, which at that moment was the most ironically named place I could imagine, gazing out over fields of snow and a frozen lake. We built a snowman, threw snowballs, and let the crazy Californians have their winter delight. It was my mother-in-law's first White Christmas, so she was having fun, although the slush involved three days after a snow and ice storm is not as romantic as Bing Crosby crooned it to be.
Then we marched back home, and since the ham was pre-baked and just needed warmed, everything went into the oven all at once. Green bean casserole, pineapple candied yams, Hawaiian rolls, a trip to the honey-baked ham store, pumpkin pie, and homemade chocolate chip cookies. I had a table-center of the tree branches I cut with a three-candle display I had for a while and some glittery red and white candles from $Tree. Music came from TSO mostly, whatever we had in our iTunes collection. There were all the usual compliments, but most importantly, no one fell sick afterward, unlike a party Matt and I went to where he ate a dessert I did not try and got ill. It was a dessert someone brought, so our dear host and hostess were not to be blamed.
I made a special crock pot brew of mulled apple cider. After assuring them I said "mulled" not "mold," they agreed to a taste, and that quickly became the beverage of choice through the night, even over the egg nog, coffee, wine, Martinelli's, cream soda, and other drinks we splurged on.
1 gallon apple cider (unfiltered tastes better, but regular cheap brand works)
1/2 cup brown sugar
3 cinnamon sticks
12 whole cloves
1 tsp ginger or use crystallized ginger
optional 1 tsp whole allspice (I couldn't find any, and it tasted fine)
Pour cider into crock pot. Mix brown sugar until dissolved; if powdered ginger, mix that too, if crystallized, put it with other seasonings. Wrap cinnamon, cloves, ginger, and allspice into cheesecloth (if you don't have cheesecloth, use a tea ball, coffee filter, or just make sure you fish them all out before serving). Toss in an unpeeled orange to float, or for a tangier taste, float orange slices (I've tried both). Cook high 2 hours or low 4-6 hours. Let the crock pot sit uncovered to make the whole house smell divine! Serve into mugs with a ladle
Optional: add a splash of rum or brandy to each mug, float a pat of butter, add orange slice or cinnamon stick to each mug, many things you can do to individualize your recipe.
The Loot:
I've sort of forgotten much of what I received. Tis better to give, right? Matt got me Prince Caspian. His mom got me new kitchen gloves that I totally needed, plus nice shower gel and crystal-etched nail files that are so wonderful. Matt's uncle knows I love lighthouses, so everything was lighthouse-themed: a little ceramic lighthouse, a DVD on Oregon lighthouses, a fridge magnet, and of course the obligatory 2009 calendar. Matt got the iPod alarm clock he really wanted, Dark Knight, an Andrew Lloyd Webber CD, as well as AC/DC's new album that he's been drooling over. And the kitties got a new scratching post. Their old one was thrashed!
Great Christmas Memory:
Now remember, our cute evergreen was covered in sci-fi paraphernalia. One thing that got everyone cracking up was when I saw Stetson (mister chew-everything) nibbling on a Bird of Prey (must have thought it was a green parrot).
Not thinking, I yelled at him, "Stetson, don't chew on the Klingons!"
Two seconds later, splitting laughter from all around. (Maybe you had to be there, but it was really hilarious)
A couple hours later, he attempted to nibble the lowest ornament, the Borg cube. My earlier comment prompted Matt to quote the lovable Q: "How many times do I have to tell you: don't provoke the Borg!"
Stetson's insatiable chewing habit meant no ornaments for the first two feet of tree. Of course, our tree is only about four feet tall. He attempted to chew on the branches, but I guess they don't taste as good as Klingons. By luck, the tree is still upright, so the tannenbaum might become a tradition around here. Of course, no offense to Bing Crosby, but I'd rather spend my winter in So-Cal with family and friends than chipping ice off the car.
Watching the hippie Priuses slipping along the road was sort of fun, though.
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