thrift store gift

each christmas, the girl and i exchange one gift that's been gently used or repurposed. this year, i gave her a spice rack from our community services store, the local place where we have always donated used clothes, books, and household items. i got it at a half price sale, so it was only a dollar. i was thrilled to find it and knew it would look good in the kitchen she had been renovating. 

fulfilling my christmas wish for colorful scarves with metallic elements, the girl bought me this long teal scarf, not a color i'd normally wear, but one that now looks fantastic with my recently-turned white hair. it has metallic threads - and even sequins! as i wrapped it around my shoulders, the girl told me it was my thrift gift, that she had bought it at goodwill. even better!! 

to get used to the color, i wore the scarf first to work, a few hours only - and yes, i loved it! so i wore it two days later to an important meeting filled with people i did not know. midway through the meeting, my fingers found a stiff strip across one end of the scarf, just above the beautifully tied fringe. what was this thing? i lowered the section to my lap and surreptitiously tried to peel off the sticker. it would not budge. i turned the section into my lap and tried to hide it for the rest of the meeting.

that night at home, i inspected the sticker and realized its purpose; i had seen tabs like this on my own father's clothes. on it was a first initial and a last name. this scarf belonged to a woman who lived in a communal situation, someone who shared storage and laundry facilities with others. she wore this to dinner at her independent living community. she put it on for movie nights in the common room of an assisted living facility. she wore it when she wanted to look pretty for visitors to the nursing home. and the tag was prominently placed to make it easier to return the scarf to her should it get misplaced or taken away for cleaning. 

i have tried to remove this tag, and cannot. it must be glued - pulling will only rip the delicate threads of the weave. so i wear the scarf with the tag strategically placed inside, against my shirt and hope that it stays that way. and each time i wear it, i take with me the memory of a w. schoolcraft, another white-haired woman, one who had impeccable taste in scarves. 

pretty papers

when she was a child, the girl made a present for me in school, and wrapped it in potato print paper that she stamped herself. every christmas since, for at least three decades, i wrap one of her presents in this same paper, saved from one christmas to the next. and now the not-so-little girl continues this tradition. this christmas, she made her own decorated brown paper and wrapped one of my gifts in it. so today, as i pack away the holidays, i carefully smooth it and wrap the paper around a discarded paper towel tube, to keep it nice - so i can reuse it for many christmases to come.

 

christmas past

it's a few weeks yet 'til christmas, but we are putting up the tree tonight. this is unplanned, but the tree is in the yard, up against the house, and why not now? the not-so-little girl is anxious to decorate, so in comes the tree, we find the stand and the box of ornaments and she begins. she remembers from year to year how she and i like this tree to look: the old red flocked birds are indeed "flocked", all gathered together on one the side of the tree. her great-great grandmother's sequined ball is high up near the top, so you can look up and see all the sparkles reflect the tree lights. delicate ornaments still go near the top of the tree, a reminder of long-ago christmases when we had babies and dogs. 

we listen to christmas music as she decorates and i make us supper. suddenly, she's in the kitchen at my side, with one of the old plastic filagree balls in her hand. there's something inside, she whispers. listen. and i hear the quiet rattle. we investigate, and find something tiny and cylindrical inside. she shakes and tips and tries to bring the object to a large hole in the ornament, but its shape won't allow it to be pulled through. finally we resort to tweezers and gently tug. and out it comes. 

it's paper, and it's old and thin. slowly, carefully, the not-so-little girl unfurls the scrap and reads its contents: december 24, 1985. and it is signed, in a childlike scrawl, by her mother.

how can this be? it's been right there, unnoticed, for thirty-two christmases! we can't wait to share our find with the girl herself! but she does not remember placing such a note and is as astonished as we are. more quick math and we come to the realization that, when she hid this note, she was ten, and exactly the age that the not-so-little-girl is now.

on her own, the youngest of us decides to return the note to its original hiding place and add a second one, this one dated december 8, 2017, and signed in her own childlike hand. she hopes some christmas as she decorates, her own daughter may notice the tiny rolled notes hidden deep inside her great-grandmother's gold filagree ornament, and be just as surprised and delighted by their discovery as we all were this christmas.

transcription

the holidays are coming, beginning with thanksgiving in just a few days, and i have been cleaning, prepping, and making lists. when i poll the family about preferences and expectations, the not-so-little-girl reminds me that we alway have cookies for dessert. i guess i have inadvertently made yet another tradition, so tonight and i drag out my old cookbook to make the dough so she can decorate cookies when she comes on wednesday.

the book falls open to the recipe, such a mess is the page it's on. forty-five years of splattered dough, greasy smudges, and messy fingerprints distract me from the familiar words as i follow them to make the dough. after i set it in the refrigerator to chill, after i clean and put away the mixing bowls and spatulas, i sit with choral music and tea to type the ingredients and directions into google docs, my recipe box in the cloud, where all my old favorites these days reside, annotated and ready to share when the time is right. i think to cut and paste it here, where i have not been in a very long time.

Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies

From McCall’s Cookie Collection © The McCall Corporation 1965

...these are the sugar cookies we made every Christmas when the girl was a child,

and later at Thanksgiving when the not-so-little girl was young…

4 cups sifted all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon (or more!) nutmeg
1 cup soft butter
1 ½ cups sugar
1 egg
½ cup sour cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Sift flour with baking powder, baking soda, salt, and nutmeg; set aside.
In a large bowl of electric mixer, at medium speed, beat butter, sugar, and egg until light and fluffy.
At low speed, beat in sour cream and vanilla until smooth.
Gradually add flour mixture, beating until well combined.
With rubber scraper, form dough into a ball. Wrap in waxed paper or foil; refrigerate several hours, or overnight.
Divide dough into 4 parts. Refrigerate until ready to roll out.
Preheat oven to 375°F. Lightly grease cookie sheet.
On a well-floured surface, roll dough, one part at a time, ¼” thick.
With floured, 2 ½” round or scalloped cookie cutter, cut out cookies. Using spatula, place, 2” apart, on prepared cookie sheets. Reroll trimmings and cut.
Bake 10 to 12 minutes or until golden. Remove to wire rack; cool.
Makes about 6 dozen (the round 2 ½” ones).

My notes: Pshaw! We never made plain old round ones! We made trees and Santas and reindeers and gingerbread men and stars - and leaves and turkeys at Thanksgiving!! These are very good, especially the ones that get rolled out first - rerolls are not as light. Don’t roll too thick. They taste best frosted and are yummy with eggnog.

Our frosting: 2 cups sifted confectioners’ sugar and 2 ½ to 3 tablespoons of milk. Beat with wooden spoon, add more milk if too thick. Color with food coloring, of course. Keep a little white for snowmen, and Santa's beard. 

i head to bed now, content in the knowledge that the recipe is preserved for the girl, for her daughter, for posterity. and for tradition. 

traditions

it's her 3/4 birthday, she tells me. in three months, she'll advance a whole whole number. where has the time gone, i continually wonder. but then - look! thankfully, you're never too old for an egg tree...

easter 2015

happy easter!

the tradition continues. i am amazed. two friends i have long suspected are in different states this easter morning. 

valentine memory

today was valentines day in schools, and i had the unexpected surprise of participating in a kindergarten party, highlighted with valentine delivery by beaming five year olds. later in the day, the little girl shared with me her valentine box from school, reading each card and the name of the giver, commenting on the styles of cards and the candy and lollipops that accompanied most. it's a tradition. we have done this every year since before she could even read them.

from nowhere today, came pieces of the ancient memory of a nine year old arriving new to a school on the fourteenth of february. the classroom was all decorated with pinks and reds and the room was abuzz with talk of the upcoming party after lunch. the teacher had a kind face and a pleasant manner, but i remember being apprehensive - we had moved around a lot and it was always hard for me to make new friends in a new place.

those were the days when there were neighborhood schools, stay-at-home mothers, and no need for lunch programs. when i came back to school after lunch, a beautifully decorated box was sitting on my desk, and inside were valentine cards from all my new classmates. i don't remember learning the details of how all that came to be, but i do remember the welcoming feeling of acceptance from a room full of strangers. years later, i suspect that it all had to do with my new teacher, mrs. stanton. and i silently thanked her again today for her kindness to an anxious child so many, many years ago.

january: hygge

of all the months of the year, january is my least favorite. it's cold. it's dark. and it's long. this january hasn't been as bad as others since snowstorms have been few and insignificant. but still i can't wait for this month to be over.

in truth, january never had a chance. i was dreading this month before it even started. so i've built in some activities and oddities to get me through these long weeks. i saved a certain book to read. i have a short, specific list of small projects to accomplish around the house. i have lunch and coffee dates with friends sprinkled throughout the month. for fun, i'm writing all my lists on round paper in a spiral fashion. i'm practicing daily something silly that i've wanted to try for a while now. i'm planning a summer garden. and i'm sitting myself down to a movie every week.

i read this month about hygge, an interesting danish cultural concept. it involves objects, traditions, and activities to brighten the dark winter months and promote well-being. in some odd way, i must have begun to intuit this mindset a few years ago, and now leave the clear christmas lights in the windows and on the mantle until at least march, light candles and oil lamps when darkness falls, and try to get together with friends and family regularly. maybe the lists, books, and projects just add to it a little. anyway, for mid-january, i think i'm doing all right - but i'll still be really glad when it's finally february.

christmas baking

this morning, i make sand tarts. or at least i try to make sand tarts. i've tried them before, over several christmas seasons, and i can never quite get them right. but this time, it's important.

at christmas, a long time friend always made sand tarts and gave boxes of them as presents. thin and crisp, light and buttery, they fast became my family's favorite. come december, we would anticipate their arrival and then save them for christmas eve with eggnog; they were that special.

in the last weeks, she has gone, my friend, moving far, far away to begin a new adventure. this is the week she travels to her new home, solo and by car.  while i am so excited for her, and i admire her bravery, i also miss her already and am sad that our friendship will be different now.

so this morning while she completes the last leg of her journey, i am with her as i make her sand tarts. i quickly roll the dough and cut it with my tiniest cooky cutters, trying to replicate the ones she's made for me in the past. remembering not to re-roll the dough, i cut the trimmings into rectangles with a knife. as i fill the parchment covered baking sheet with stars, hearts, and snowmen, i wonder where she is, and when she will arrive. i wash the cookies with egg white, i dust them with cinnamon and sugars, and i think about snow and pray she doesn't encounter any. while the sand tarts bake in the oven behind me, i stare out the window and let thirty years of memories wash over me.

the timer goes off. the sand tarts look good. as i move them to a cooling rack, her message comes. she has arrived, and safely. i can read the joy and excitement in her words. i catch myself smiling as i finish baking the cookies and, when i'm done, i sit for a few minutes with a cup of tea, sending good thoughts and best wishes to my far-away friend, and enjoying an almost perfect sand tart.

december traditions

at the end of november, every year, i give the little girl an advent calendar, as i did her mother before her. she takes it home, hangs it in her kitchen, and opens a window each december morning, counting the days until christmas. it's tradition.

our other december tradition is observing the little girl's half-birthday. in the past, i've just mention it to her, but this year, given her increasing knowledge of fractions, i mailed her half of a birthday card. she thought it was funny.

early on the morning of her half-birthday, after i sent a happy half-birthday text, the girl sent me this photo of the image behind the advent calendar window for that day. again, the little girl thinks it's some sort of grandmother-magic.

thanksgiving, very late.

this week, i've been away, at an event connecting with former colleagues and distant friends. a few folks pointed out that i'd made no mention of thanksgiving here and they are right. this is the closest i'll get - to the photo i uploaded, then forgot about...packing away all things fall before i left, so i'd be free to bring on christmas when i returned. 

the older i get, the more thanksgiving becomes my favorite holiday. it's about family and gratitude, a quiet pause before changing seasons. this year, it was an especially emotional one for me and i'm not sure why. i missed my parents, gone now for many years, more than i usually do. as the little girl and i shared our traditional thanksgiving preparations, i found myself so aware of the fact that she's growing up too quickly for me and our special times are likely to change in the next years. later i watched in awe and admiration as friends and neighbors lost power in an awful snowstorm, drove for hours on horrible roads to be with their loved ones, and found celebratory ways to give thanks anyway. i laid awake at night and wondered why i've been so damned lucky my whole life. 

and on a brighter note, i sprung for a fresh turkey. i brined it. and it was fantastic. 

baking day

a rainy, windy wednesday before thanksgiving, a good day to be warm and dry inside, baking and prepping for the holiday. we make turkey cookies, leaf cookies, and the isolated squirrel, all sporting m&ms for color. we roll with my mother's rolling pin and i tell the little girl about the thanksgivings of my childhood. we reminisce a little about her thanksgivings past, few though they may be. and we talk and laugh and sing, two happy bakers making a thanksgiving memory to recall in years to come.

the elephants

the circus came back to our town today. the little girl and i were there early this morning to watch the set up, as we did last year. of all the animals there, the elephants were the most captivating to me this year, and i'm not sure why. massive creatures, docile, and seemingly content. fascinating to photograph.

a bright shiny new year

i believe this is the earliest i have ever taken down a christmas tree. ever. it still smelled piney fresh as i took off ornaments, which made me feel worse about taking it all down so soon. usually, it's christmas around here for a lot longer than only two weeks. don't get me wrong - the holidays were wondrous in their own right, with the little girl's boundless excitement, with cozy christmas festivities at the girl's family's long-awaited and lovely new home, with lazy days and a respite from the responsibilities of work. but i think i'm ready to be done with the holidays now. i am so curious and so excited about this new year and all that i anticipate it will hold. but right now, i'm looking forward to some routine and stability, to predictability, to quiet and calm. just for a little while.

this also seems a fitting time to thank you, so much, for your readership this year. it's been an odd year for me blog-wise, and i do so appreciate your patience and understanding with that. it still makes my day to find a comment from one of you. truly.

blessings to each of you, and to those you love, in this bright and shiny new year.

election day

election day is always such a source of community pride here, as i imagine it is in most places. good to see neighbors and friends at the polls, to visit with the ladies who bake for the scholarship fund, to stand around the wood stove and talk town politics. and to help shape the nation, from our small corner of it. 

tonight i am on pins and needles, like much of the rest of the country.

independence day

gotta love small town parades. kids on bicycles, decorated convertibles and pick-up trucks, candy tossed to the crowds from makeshift floats, and lots of red, white, and blue! happy fourth of july!

easter 2012

first off, yes - the easter balloon arrived as it does each year. a few days early, actually, leading one to believe that the easter bunny was intending to be busy on the actual holiday - or perhaps out of town.  regardless, the balloon became easter sunday decor and the attached carrots were beribboned and hung as a front door ornament. the little girl was present for all of this and was quite taken with the tradition.

speaking of tradition, i am not one to deviate from long-standing holiday menus. easter is always ham, my mother's delmonico potatoes (aka "cheese potatoes"), asparagus and dessert is always strawberry shortcake on warm buttermilk biscuits. but this year, the little girl requested chocolate cake. with candy eggs on top, a chocolate bunny, and a big strawberry. i can't help but wonder if a new tradition may be in the making.