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Christmas Eve- a few images and vignettes

I have a small shiny burn spot on my right index finger. I burnt it taking banana nut muffins out of the oven. The muffins are based on a recipe by a woman named Lynn. She was a regular customer at the Original Book Gallery, the bookstore I worked at in my late teens, very early twenties (and my sister worked at until the store closed in 1993). Lynn would come in with her husband, and they would do 2 for 1 trades for Romances (for Lynn) and Westerns (for her husband, whose name I cannot remember). Every Christmas, she’d make loaves of her banana nut bread and bring us some. Her banana nut bread might more rightly be called banana nut cake. Kay, the owner of the bookstore, would give them bottles of her knock you on your ass eggnog. Lynn wrote the recipe down for me, on a piece of yellow paper. Her handwriting is fading, and the paper is marked with traces of previous banana nut bread making sessions. Today, in memory of her and in memory of past Christmas shenanigans, I followed her directions, except instead of making loaves, I made muffins, which cook faster. Now I have a platter full of mini-banana nut cakes.

Earlier today, Momma did some chores (for pay). I made her a cup of coffee, as I always do, and added some Peppermint Mocha coffee creamer. She sat with Richard, the 17 pound beast, on her lap, sipping her coffee, sighing as if it were the nectar of the gods. She watched several Christmas movies. And she was very happy. Before she left my house, I trimmed her bangs. Later tonight, I will take her to the late Christmas Eve Services. She cannot wait; she was dressed for it four hours before we will be leaving for the church. She loves the music. I would take her to church more often, but it is so much, too much, work. But I will take her to the special services, the ones with glorious music. Because it means so much to her. And I will keep making her cups of coffee and adding just a wee bit of peppermint mocha creamer because that also means so much to her.

My spouse sits in the living room watching Ghost Busters; ELF. one of the cats, is in “the leg tent,” which is what we call covers stretched over bent knees. She likes to cuddle underneath the leg tent. Presents are under the tree. Lights are on outside. House is reasonable clean, or as clean as can be expected considering that we both are more slobbish than not. House is beginning to get cold, so I have turned up the wall unit, which will only cut the cold in the central core of the house. I had the Advent candles lit, but one of my no drip candles was dripping like mad and burning way too fast, so I blew them out.

My sister and nephew will be driving up from Tampa after they celebrate Christmas Eve with a family friend. They will go see the lights on people’s houses and while they are out, Santa will make an early visit. My nephew will open presents from Santa. And then they will drive up here. Daddy will sit in the house and wait for them while we are at church. Before we go to church, I will put a muffin with a glass of milk on the table and tell Daddy he may not drink it until after Henry is here and soundly back asleep.

I watched the video for Tim Michin’s White Wine in the Sun and wept.

A splendid little secular Christmas carol – Boing Boing.

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