There is shopping to do, the tree is still leaning against the corner of the house, I have nothing baked and there is company arriving Christmas Day. Am I worried or concerned….not yet! I’m practicing the art of a stress free holiday. Something new I’m attempting to see how it fits. Quite the contrast after years of losing my mind in the details and lists this time of year brings. Even though the days leading up to Christmas are running away like cheap pantyhose, I’m playing it cool.
I seem to be keeping ahead of the panic and so far, knock on wood, the nightmares haven’t started like in previous years. It’s a torturous, reoccurring dream of shopping in stores that have nothing left on the shelves except dust and wires as pictured in the Grinch that stole Christmas, or when I get to the shops the doors are locked, a whole other degree of panic. I usually wake in a sweat and a dry mouth, probably from screaming? This cool attitude might be the defense against sleepless nights and wild dreams, which I might add have been great since hubby came home. I’ve been snoring up a storm, chiming in with pups, Henri and Fiz as they saw their own chords of lumber every night.
Sunday morning I slept in and dreamed of my mother. She was young looking and it was established in the dream that I was 27, what significance that holds is lost on me; I don’t even remember being that age. Mom was so real and comforting I was thoroughly upset when the alarm woke me. I tried to go back to sleep to finish the dream, something I’ve done before but she was gone. Whenever I dream of my parents I am overjoyed and cling to the memory until it dissolves.
This dream was strange in content. I was single and my father had died. Considering my mother was the first to pass it was strange but I can’t spend too much time analyzing, I’m just happy to be able to gaze upon her so full of life. It was weird though, I was feeling lonely and exclaimed that I was going to join a local dating website and sign us both up, that I was tired of being alone and neither should she. That’s when I woke up. Puzzled I asked hubby what he thought it might mean and he said, “It’s probably about wanting another dog, that’s all I hear you talk about.” It is a fact that I moan for another puppy. Even though my hands are full with the pack I have my heart isn’t. I have love for many more furry kids. Maybe once I retire I’ll add to my little family, but right now four is the magic number. So there is no clear meaning to the dream but much appreciated time with my mom. A wonderful Christmas gift from my subconscious!
I spent Sunday clearing my shop desk of paperwork and got the huge white monster down to a mosquito sized bite. I had a very busy week with a trip to the airport, hubby’s and my birthday, his is the day after mine, various appointments and spending time together. Because I was so distracted with my personal life, everything piled up and I even forgot to do the payroll deduction remittance on the 15th, so now there will be a nasty fine to pay.
Thank goodness I won’t have a white Christmas, white as in paper, as the landslide is once again under control. Now I can truly relax and think about the coming holidays. The accountant came today and picked up the box so she can do her end of things, she’s the best thing since sliced bread!
Tonight the tree will go in the stand and after the branches relax, I’ll throw on the ornaments. I don’t plan to go crazy with baked goods, just the traditional shortbreads, my favourite, and butter tarts, hubby’s favourite and the remaining sweets can come from Costco Belgian chocolates.
Truthfully, if I’m not cutting it close it wouldn’t be Christmas! The twist will be that I’m approaching this year with the mellowness that comes from drinking a bottle of wine. It’s so strange and unfamiliar to my normally type A personality, but hubby will appreciate the calm and will probably wonder what happened to his wife and wait on eggshells for the true me to emerge, bringing on the angst and tears as the final countdown begins. The problem is I know me. No matter how good my intentions are, I’ll end up losing my mind and get things done by the wirey menopausal hair of my chinny, chin, chin. And I’ll get there; let’s just hope he’s still speaking to me.
One way or another, the Christmas feast will be served promptly at 6:00 pm on the Day. The potatoes will be mashed to perfection; the sweet potatoes will be slices of maple heaven. My special sweet and sour onions will be the perfect companion to the mustard cauliflower, homemade cranberry sauce and hubby’s special honey infused turnip, parsnip and carrot mash. Yup, the food will be perfect as I pull that rabbit out of my hat once again, and afterwards we will sit around with our pants unbuttoned waiting for room for dessert. It will be something made with apples, depending on time allowance. If I get up early and feel inclined it will be apple pie, but if time pulls the rug out, I’ll go simple and put out my mother’s recipe for apple crisp, a much loved staple in the family. A bit of quality vanilla ice-cream and we’re good to go. We also have a rum soaked fruitcake that will top it all off and a liqueur if fancied.
Shane and Ashley are coming for dinner and my brother and sister-in-law are arriving from Whitefish, Ontario on Christmas Day. They should arrive just as the turkey is coming out of the oven, all crisp and golden brown. All that will remain is making the gravy, carving the beast and serving. I'll let you know how I make out!
I seem to be keeping ahead of the panic and so far, knock on wood, the nightmares haven’t started like in previous years. It’s a torturous, reoccurring dream of shopping in stores that have nothing left on the shelves except dust and wires as pictured in the Grinch that stole Christmas, or when I get to the shops the doors are locked, a whole other degree of panic. I usually wake in a sweat and a dry mouth, probably from screaming? This cool attitude might be the defense against sleepless nights and wild dreams, which I might add have been great since hubby came home. I’ve been snoring up a storm, chiming in with pups, Henri and Fiz as they saw their own chords of lumber every night.
Sunday morning I slept in and dreamed of my mother. She was young looking and it was established in the dream that I was 27, what significance that holds is lost on me; I don’t even remember being that age. Mom was so real and comforting I was thoroughly upset when the alarm woke me. I tried to go back to sleep to finish the dream, something I’ve done before but she was gone. Whenever I dream of my parents I am overjoyed and cling to the memory until it dissolves.
This dream was strange in content. I was single and my father had died. Considering my mother was the first to pass it was strange but I can’t spend too much time analyzing, I’m just happy to be able to gaze upon her so full of life. It was weird though, I was feeling lonely and exclaimed that I was going to join a local dating website and sign us both up, that I was tired of being alone and neither should she. That’s when I woke up. Puzzled I asked hubby what he thought it might mean and he said, “It’s probably about wanting another dog, that’s all I hear you talk about.” It is a fact that I moan for another puppy. Even though my hands are full with the pack I have my heart isn’t. I have love for many more furry kids. Maybe once I retire I’ll add to my little family, but right now four is the magic number. So there is no clear meaning to the dream but much appreciated time with my mom. A wonderful Christmas gift from my subconscious!
I spent Sunday clearing my shop desk of paperwork and got the huge white monster down to a mosquito sized bite. I had a very busy week with a trip to the airport, hubby’s and my birthday, his is the day after mine, various appointments and spending time together. Because I was so distracted with my personal life, everything piled up and I even forgot to do the payroll deduction remittance on the 15th, so now there will be a nasty fine to pay.
Thank goodness I won’t have a white Christmas, white as in paper, as the landslide is once again under control. Now I can truly relax and think about the coming holidays. The accountant came today and picked up the box so she can do her end of things, she’s the best thing since sliced bread!
Tonight the tree will go in the stand and after the branches relax, I’ll throw on the ornaments. I don’t plan to go crazy with baked goods, just the traditional shortbreads, my favourite, and butter tarts, hubby’s favourite and the remaining sweets can come from Costco Belgian chocolates.
Truthfully, if I’m not cutting it close it wouldn’t be Christmas! The twist will be that I’m approaching this year with the mellowness that comes from drinking a bottle of wine. It’s so strange and unfamiliar to my normally type A personality, but hubby will appreciate the calm and will probably wonder what happened to his wife and wait on eggshells for the true me to emerge, bringing on the angst and tears as the final countdown begins. The problem is I know me. No matter how good my intentions are, I’ll end up losing my mind and get things done by the wirey menopausal hair of my chinny, chin, chin. And I’ll get there; let’s just hope he’s still speaking to me.
One way or another, the Christmas feast will be served promptly at 6:00 pm on the Day. The potatoes will be mashed to perfection; the sweet potatoes will be slices of maple heaven. My special sweet and sour onions will be the perfect companion to the mustard cauliflower, homemade cranberry sauce and hubby’s special honey infused turnip, parsnip and carrot mash. Yup, the food will be perfect as I pull that rabbit out of my hat once again, and afterwards we will sit around with our pants unbuttoned waiting for room for dessert. It will be something made with apples, depending on time allowance. If I get up early and feel inclined it will be apple pie, but if time pulls the rug out, I’ll go simple and put out my mother’s recipe for apple crisp, a much loved staple in the family. A bit of quality vanilla ice-cream and we’re good to go. We also have a rum soaked fruitcake that will top it all off and a liqueur if fancied.
Shane and Ashley are coming for dinner and my brother and sister-in-law are arriving from Whitefish, Ontario on Christmas Day. They should arrive just as the turkey is coming out of the oven, all crisp and golden brown. All that will remain is making the gravy, carving the beast and serving. I'll let you know how I make out!
RSS Feed
