Happy 2011!
Our Christmas tree came down this morning and I’m ready to finish clearing the decks for new projects.
When last I posted, my busy season had barely begun. I had a big long list of things I needed to do before ringing in the New Year. In addition to going back through the manuscript of Three-Day Town, my 2011 book, and responding to my editor’s thoughtful comments and suggestions, we needed to find a perfect tree, unpack the household decorations, wrap the presents, cook lots of food, polish silver, dig all the old stubs out of the candleholders, etcetera upon etcetera so that everything would be “perfect.”
I’ll bet your list was just as long if not longer, right?
Did you get it all done?
Me, neither.
Did you have the perfect Christmas?
Neither did I.
I told myself that tarnished silver has a lovely patina and that if you light the old candle stub and wait for the wax to melt a little bit, you could jamb a fresh candle on top and it will stay in place. A little crooked, maybe but who’s going to notice? (Okay, perhaps you have a female Adrian Monk in your extended family, too . . . but when she left, all your candles were straight, right? Mine, too.)
I didn’t find some of our favorite ornaments until we were putting away the ones that did make it onto the tree and I’m really sorry that the 3-D cards various friends have sent us over the years seem to have gone missing, but surely they’ll turn up by next year?
One of the sink drains clogged and stayed clogged for two days.
The Yorkshire pudding came out a little soggy in the middle, the gravy wasn’t as flavorful as in times past, and it took half a box of toothpicks to keep the “limb” of my Yule log from separating from the rest of the cake. (I also forgot to decorate it with the meringue mushrooms I had made.)
I had promised myself that this was the year I would gift my husband with a photo album/ scrapbook detailing a trip we took five years ago. I badly misjudged how much time that would take and, indeed, had to wrap and give it to him with the last five pages missing.
Perfect Christmas?
Hardly.
Yet somehow, as we were taking down the tree, we agreed that it was our best Christmas ever.
Bet yours was, too.
