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CHRISTMAS SEASON OLIO



Ah, the frenzy approaching Christmas Day...and then, just like that, the big day fades into December 26. But of course, the Christmas Season is not finished and done. The house is still pulsing with family. The rooms are filled with abundant evidence that yesterday was the most celebrated day of the year. Although not quite so frenetic, the activity continues --the celebrating, the eating of meals, the playing of games, the eating of desserts, the washing of dishes, the playing with the baby, the eating of chocolates, the laughing and talking, the eating of sweets, the gaining of weight (yes, facts must be faced, after all--holiday or no holiday).

I've overindulged, I'll admit it. And there's nothing to be done for it now (the brisk little walk yesterday redeemed such a paltry handful of calories). What's more, even my camera is bursting at the seams. It's crying "memory full, memory full," desperate for me to unload a few photos. So here you have it, Dear Reader, my eclectic mix of Christmas Season photos:



During the Christmas Season, the mail (which in this age of electronic communication has dwindled to junk and invoices) arrives bearing gifts! One impressive card came addressed to yours truly only and bore the signature of the President of the United States himself. (There, there, calm down, it was only a reproduction of his scrawl. But the card truly did come from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, so you may be scratching your head, Dear Reader, and wondering how I rate [I briefly pondered this myself.]) Before you find yourself pouting at the omission of your name from the President's list, you should refresh your memory at this other olio posting.

On a clear night somewhere near mid-Christmas Season, I attended a Christmas concert accompanied by the fine bass singer with whom I live and a group of our friends. The choir, the soloist, the harpist, organist, pianist, brass ensemble, conductor--they presented us with music quite sublime. Don't judge my estimation, Dear Listener, by the little clip I've got for you. Perhaps when the choir moved into the aisles and the audience was invited to join the refrain (to which my fine bass singer did not refrain), my tiny camera was simply overwhelmed.




Snow arrived in the Christmas Season a second time, and this was more than just the playful stuff that briefly adorned our Christmas tree. It earnestly fell from the sky hour after hour and blanketed fields and highways on the very day I dreamed of finishing up all my shopping. I talked myself into driving as far as the road. But, Reader Dear, I live on a  very steep hill. I lost my nerve.











However--surprise, surprise--the man who parks his truck in my driveway offered to give me a ride to the store!

Too bad, the driver of the truck could not ensure this was the final Christmas shopping trip for me. (He doesn't wear a red suit and climb down chimneys, after all.)




Christmas Morning Quiche.














Christmas Eve Pizza.




Okay, I'd like to continue, but I've got dishes to wash. And another meal to prepare.

Oh...and a baby to be played with. Yes! A baby to be played with! Now, hmm...which should I do first?











(Back tomorrow with Olio Cont'd)



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