Ho ho ho!

Santa made an early visit to Milo last night. He brought along the Mrs. and one of his elves.

Milo wasn't quite sure what to make of the big man (or his friends) but he took it in stride. I think he might even have whispered his Christmas list to Santa while I wasn't looking.

Countdown to Christmas

Yesterday, Milo, the S.O. and I went to the Merry Christmas Tree Farm to harvest our Christmas tree. It was a very brisk day, so we bundled Milo into the new snowsuit Gramma D gave him.

We picked a blue spruce that is much (much, much) smaller than last year's Griswold tree.

Christmas recap

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas day. Christmas on a Saturday is great, isn't it? Now we get Sunday for more relaxing. I'm not one to run out to the after-Christmas sales, so today will probably be a lot like yesterday. Naps and snacks and watching movies.

Our Christmas dinner was not exactly what most people would consider traditional, but we are making it a tradition in our house. Because we had a big turkey dinner just about a month ago, we're not ready for more turkey at Christmas. And ham isn't really my thing. So we had a Korean Christmas. I made bulgogi, cabbage kimchi, spicy cucumbers and sticky rice -- all from scratch.

I did a lot of prep work earlier in the week, so all we had to do yesterday was cook the rice and meat. For those of you who might not know, bulgogi is Korean barbecue, and kimchi is a spicy fermented vegetable dish. The cabbage kimchi I made is not the traditional fermented variety. It was a quick -- or fresh -- kimchi. It's much simpler because it doesn't take weeks to complete, but it's still tasty.

We spent much of the day watching videos, including "A Christmas Carol," "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" (the original cartoon, not that Jim Carrey thing) and "A Charlie Brown Christmas." We finished the evening watching "Green Fingers." Which isn't a Christmas movie but is a really good, really funny, heartwarming movie I highly recommend if you 1) like Clive Owen (and who doesn't?) and 2) enjoy British films.

All in all, it was a nice Christmas -- quiet and uneventful. I'm guessing it's the last of its kind for the S.O. and me for a long time. And I'm perfectly OK with that.

All is merry and bright

Merry Christmas

from the 40-Something First Timer Family

Christmas traditions

When I was a kid, the one thing that signaled Christmas more than any other -- more than the tree, more than the onslaught of Christmas specials on TV, even more than the pile of presents -- was Mom breaking out the ingredients to make peanut brittle. She used a recipe given to her by my paternal grandmother.

It was quite a production: bags of raw peanuts, boxes of baking soda, piles of sugar, bottles of corn syrup, sticks of butter, the candy thermometer and her trusty heavy-bottom pan. My brothers and I would stand near the stove as Mom stirred what seemed like a magic potion, waiting impatiently for the moment when she added the baking soda, and the syrupy concoction would turn into fluffy, gooey peanut brittle.

She would pour the molten mixture out on a metal slab in the middle of our huge kitchen table. We four kids would gather round with our buttered fingers and start pulling the edges of the peanut brittle to stretch it thin -- to Mom's cries of "Wait! It's still too hot! Wait!"

But we couldn't wait. The sooner we pulled the peanut brittle out into thin segments, the sooner we could start eating it -- and the sooner Christmas could really get started.

I don't remember a year without this tradition while Mom was alive. She carried on even after all of her children had moved out. She would spend days making batch after batch because I wasn't the only person who thought it wasn't Christmas without Mom's peanut brittle.

Since Mom died, no one has carried on the tradition. But this year, my lovely culinary friend mentioned wanting to make something homemade for family. I shared Mom's peanut brittle recipe with her, and joined her this weekend to oversee and help with its creation. Honestly, I was afraid to try this recipe myself. I worried about having the right equipment. I worried that my inherent lack of patience would cause me to a scalding sugar mess across my kitchen. I worried that no matter what I did, it would never in a million years live up to my memories.

Yet, standing in my friend's kitchen, sipping hot spiced cider, watching her add the baking soda at just the right time, then stretching the candy with her, her husband and the S.O. really did feel right. And the first batch of peanut brittle -- when pulled thin and cooled -- was perfect. It was exactly the way Mom made it.

And it was exactly what I needed to make it really feel like Christmas.

One-Word Weekend

Wordless Weekend

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

How long do I get to blame "baby brain" for my forgetfulness? I should get to blame things on baby brain for at least the duration of the pregnancy. Right? So far it's been mostly little things. And even the sort of big thing I forgot wasn't life or death.

Last weekend Michael Hague (site requires Flash and Microsoft Explorer) was at the local Barnes & Noble, signing copies of his new book "White Christmas." (And yes, it's much cheaper at Amazon but it isn't signed!) I learned of the Saturday-afternoon book signing the Thursday evening before. You'd think I could remember for a couple days. And I did remember! At 5 p.m. Saturday evening. I had missed it by a few hours. I was so disappointed.

I have a Kennedy Center Imagination Celebration poster by Hague on the wall in my office. Something I brought home years ago with the thought that it would someday adorn a nursery. I'm told he would have signed my poster. I also found out that he drew little sketches in the books as he signed them Saturday. More disappointment. Still, the bookstore had extra autographed copies -- sans sketch -- available, so I bought one. It's a really beautifully illustrated book and I was excited to have the signed copy, even if I didn't get to meet Michael Hague and have him draw a sketch.

The S.O. wondered how we would keep the book looking so nice. My idea -- my probably unrealistic fantasy -- is that we'll pull the book out each Christmas Eve and the S.O. will hold the little one while I hold the book and read to them. It's quite a Norman Rockwell -- or Michael Hague -- picture in my head: My wonderful S.O. holding our adorable, well-behaved child in his lap, Mama reading the words to Irving Berling's "White Christmas" and pointing out all the amazing illustrations. The book even has the sheet music to the song in the back, so the S.O. could play it on the piano.

Quiet, you. It could happen.

No matter what it's a book that will be kept in a safe spot until our child is old enough to appreciate the beauty of it. If my kid is anything like me, books will be a big part of life.

Pain and pine needles

I could be in real trouble here, people. I spent most of the weekend hobbling around. My hips and groin were in so much pain. Is that normal? Is it because of my age? Is it supposed to start this early? Because these next four months are going to be rough if that's the case.

I don't know if I overdid something working out or if I sat around being lazy for too long, but I was definitely sore. It's a little better today -- and I did work out this morning -- but there's still some pain in my hip. I didn't expect to be sore like this for at least another couple of months. It's a little discouraging.

Still, I'm not going to let a little thing like excruciating pain keep me down, and the S.O. and I headed out to the mountains yesterday to find a Christmas tree. We purchased a permit and headed out to Pike National Forest to find a good one.

It was a nice day for Christmas tree hunting. The trees in the forest aren't perfect like ones you'll find on lots. But we're not perfect, so it suits us just fine.

The S.O. sizes up his quarry.

The great hunter with his "kill."

There was just one slight problem. I think we had a case of our eyes being bigger than our stomachs -- or in this case, the living room.

We are so the Griswolds.

We managed to cut the tree down to size without making it look silly, and with lights and ornaments, it looks lovely. I will try to get a picture of it in all its glory this evening, so you can see.

We want to start a tradition of cutting our own tree, but it might not start next year. I can't imagine trudging through the forest carrying a baby and a tree.