Homemade Stockings, Cookies and Merriment – Christmas in Boston

22

Dec

I am not going to lie. Poor Boo is probably feeling a little cheated about life and Christmas. I have been doing nothing but taking tests, writing essays, stressing out, complaining about how dirty our house is and being a total insomniac. I have set my alarm for unholy hours far too many times to count in the last two weeks and he has arisen in his stupor and made me coffee, scraped my windshield and snuggled my cold hands while I studied in the early morning hours. I do not deserve him. However, I have not been very festive or merry. I have mostly been stressed and nerdy.

Speaking of nerdy, I have been writing all sorts of essays for applications to things. In particular the honors program at my school. I am not sure what I think about the honors program as both of the advisors have ignored my phone calls and emails. Doesn’t give me much inspiration about the program. All that to say, glad to be done with the semester. Over the break I need to hope enough people pass my German class that we can have the second half of it, the honors program people are in fact alive and have not been kidnapped by angry students, and that I can get the remaining four essays I need to write written in a witty, insightful and standout way. Any ideas?

So. I have been on a cookie making spree. This is normal for me. Instead of cleaning the house I complain about I have been baking cookies for the ones around us like a mad woman. Cookies for my cla’sses, cookies for friends, cookies for Boo’s work party, cookies for Boo’s coworkers wife, Boo’s coworker then told Boo, “My wife wants to date your wife.” Maybe one of the best compliments I’ve received in a while. Especially because I really like them as a couple. Can couples date? Anyway, I also made peppermint bark. This is particularly funny because I hate peppermint. I like mint, hate peppermint. It’s true.

I also hate dry chicken, seriously, hate it. I hate raspberries. I hate coconut, but not coconut flavoring. I like fresh strawberries, but not strawberry desserts, or strawberry candy. I like cherry candy, but not cherries, I don’t like them pickled or whatever they are in all those juices and I do not like them fresh, just their flavor, but not in drinks, just candy, or their sauce along the crust of cobbler, as long as there is no real cherry substance. I like blueberries, but not fresh, and not in candy, just in muffins mostly. I like all things banana, even the candy. I like condiments, all condiments, I think sauces make a meal. Keeps things moist, though over-cooked meat and dry chicken cannot be saved with sauce or condiments, these are simply a wash. I love my steak rare. Black & Blue, anything more than that is over-cooked and someone else can eat it, I don’t want it anymore. I also do not like when Boo wears Black & Blue I tell him he looks like a bruise. I like lemon. A lot. I like it on savory things, it has no place with sugar. I don’t like it in tea, candies, desserts, curds… Sick. I like it on veal and chicken and delicious things. The same with lime, though lime is fine in mojitos and margaritas, but don’t serve me any of your sick key lime pie. I don’t like it, I don’t want it, and I don’t care how many people have told you it’s delicious. It’s not to me. I feel that way about all of your fruit cobblers and pies. I know they are world famous and that is fine. I’ll eat the crust and the juice maybe. But you can keep all your chunks of warm fruit. Sick. Also. Don’t try to trick me. I don’t eat mixed merry crap because I can taste the raspberry. I am no fool.

That rant was gratuitous. Also, if you are having me for dinner feel free to reference it as a guide.

So in an attempt to let Boo know how much I love both him and Christmas, I am hand making our stockings. I was inspired my AM who made my stocking, which I love. So I googled felt stockings. Mine is red and white with felt ruffles. That’s it. Pretty plain. Boo’s is beautiful thought. It’s green with a white sleeve. It has three colors of Christmas trees on it and a snow man. I am very proud of it. I need to go home and sew them up. I have them all pinned and done. I just need to finish them. I also feel like they are things I can leave plain this year and add to later if needed.

Lots of you have been asking, we’re here for Christmas. A few months back we took this big vacation, they call it a honeymoon, and then we drove all our wedding loot back from Texas, and that basically dominated Boo’s vacation time. we were in LR for a week when his grandmother passed away, and I stayed in Texas for an extra week after Jer and Nat’s wedding, so we really viewed those trips as our holiday excursions. I begged AM&UK, but UK refused to this part of the country during Christmas citing some unreasonable numbers of previous years of travelling from New York to Texas and getting stuck BLAH BLAH BLAH uphill through the snow… Anyway. They are staying in Texas, and we are staying here. We’ll go out to AL&UM’s and crash their families Christmas. We’ll hang with Cousin Love, and the MS,Jr KT and the crazy kids. But not during the kids nap times. This is the only think KT has managed to hold sacred. I do not envy their situation. Both sets of parents local and wanting them for the occasion.

Tomorrow, or maybe later today I will tell you about the first time I drove in snow. Monday. Yep. This Monday. I almost lost my life. And our car. I blame Boo. I tried calling both he and UK. Neither of whom answered and myself and the other cars trapped on the icy hill went sideways as we tried to drive up. Luckily, someone helped me and Boo talked me through putting the car in 4 wheel drive. 5 short hours later Boston realized that the weather reports were wrong and that it was a torrential snow pour and decided to salt and plow the rodes. but only after more than 100 accidents. The experience was much funnier than I am currently making it and I want to share it with all of you.

But now, I need to go back to a tiny baby who will wake at any moment and want me, until she realizes that I am not her mom, gets pissed and starts screaming. At which point, I may feed her raspberries. I kid. Ish.

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