stuff we've been up to...

Welp, no parents this Christmas due to bad weather. Below is the duck cassoulet that was supposed to be their welcome dinner. However, we ended up having a really nice holiday. On Christmas Eve, Santa brought us all some awesomely comfy sweat pants--so soft we forgave him for instructing his elves to make us men's large through men's extra extra large sizes. No really though, if you're going to wear Paul Bunyan britches, they really should be this cozy.

Christmas Morning we found wonderful treasures under the tree. A few examples: the entire X-Men cartoon series for Jesse, a mortar and pestle for Annie, a beautiful handmade apron from Belgium for me (Kathleen), and some cute flats and a Wolverine hoodie for Sarah. Sarah had fun putting on each one of her new gifts (clothing or not) all at once.

After presents, we relaxed and breakfasted on candy--like ya do. Then, armed with a plate of cookies and our turkey breast, we headed to the Plunketts (our lovely landlords) for "lunch." Emma's parents and sister, Lottie from 'Inja', were visiting, and we sat around the crackling fire with our heavy tumblers full of Shloer (sounds alcoholic doesn't it? It's sparkling apple cider). We watched the Queen's Christmas message, in which she praised sport and its ability to bring nations together. There was footage of her standing on the sidelines at athletic events in her violet queensuit with matching cake-on-your-head-with-ribbon violet hat. There she stood, ever so demurely, amidst the whistles and cheering fans. To clarify, people were not whistling at the queen, but at the game. Or heck, maybe they were. Anyway, it was a very nice message during which Emma's mother ("Mum's quite the Royalist") wept only a few tears.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Steven was working his magic, roasting the goose and red cabbage, frying potatoes in goose fat and semolina, and making bread sauce (a yummy steamed milk and bread concoction with clove). The formal dining room was lit by candles and yet another fireplace and the table was beautiful. We feasted and chatted and laughed. I was seated between Emma's mother, who favoured me with stories of India when Emma was a girl, and Emma's son Adam who is 15 and quite cheeky. Then it was time for Christmas crackers! Until a few months ago, this phrase to me referred perhaps to hors d'oeuvres, maybe with a cheese log or something. It's different here. Crackers are these cardboard tubes containing a toy, a joke, and a paper crown. The picture behind our blog title is a very fancy Christmas cracker. We looped arms and sang Old Lang Syne--who knew there are like 7 verses?--, and at the end of the song, we pulled on our ends of the crackers and out popped our goodies! We all put on our paper crowns and read our jokes. These are the equivalent of Laffy Taffy jokes. Apparently there was an attempt made a few years ago to improve the quality of the jokes, and the people revolted. Hey, in case you didn't know how Good King Wenceslas likes his pizza, we learned that he likes it deep and crisp and even.

After some carols and Christmas Pudding, we retired to the living room to play charades and watch Emma light the candles--real candles--on the tree. Everyone was very merry at this point (their tumblers were not filled with Shloer), and we had a jolly old time. After hugs and kisses on our cheeks (not so easy with a 6'7'' merry Irishman), we walked the 3 steps to our little house and enjoyed the rest of our quiet Christmas evening.