Traditions New and Old

Yes, I know most of you are well past thinking about Christmas and have moved on to bigger and better things like New Year's resolutions and figuring out how the heck you could have possibly consumed so many sugar cookies in one month. (No? That one's just me?)


But because I'm a new mom whose days are consumed with a delightful yet rather demanding little guy, I operate on a schedule all my own. So you're getting another Christmas post now. Deal with it.


This is the first year since right after I graduated from college that I actually spent Christmas at "home." I use "home" in quotation marks because it isn't the same home in which I spent Christmases past.


I did not return to my hometown in Wyoming or even to the state in general (in part because My Parents don't live there anymore!). And unlike I've done in the past few years, I did not split my time between celebrating the holidays with My Parents wherever My Sister lives (a few years in D.C.; last year in Santa Monica) and then visiting Conservative Grandparents in Florida. Instead, My Parents made the trip to L-Town to join us for new holiday traditions in good ol' L-Town.



With My Parents, Conservative Parents, Kid Sister, and T-Bear, plus a smattering of good friends here and there, we managed to have a wonderful Christmas celebration that stretched over a couple of days. Best of all, we were able to start some new family traditions and integrate some of My Family's favorites, which we seem to maintain no matter where we celebrate Christmas.


The photos scattered throughout this post provide a snapshot of some of those traditions. On Christmas Eve, Conservative Parents joined us for our traditional meal of seafood chowder and rolls, followed by an angel food cake with peppermint ice cream. (It's a birthday cake for Baby Jesus, in case you're wondering. When we were younger, we'd light birthday candles and sing Him happy birthday. Cheesy? Perhaps. But it is a reminder of the reason for the season.)

Then, after we attended a celebration hosted by some good family friends, we got the little guy ready for bed. My Mom (who's known throughout the land for her reading voice) read Collin "The Night Before Christmas," which was given to him by his great aunt and uncle in Kansas City.

We set out cookies and milk and a note for Santa on the tray My Sister and I used for this very purpose throughout our childhoods. This year, Butter wrote the note on behalf of himself and Collin. In future years, Collin will have the pleasure of writing his own note to Santa.

Magically (!), when we awoke on Christmas morning Santa had already come and filled our stockings. After eating a bit of our usual Christmas morning bread, we took a peek at the treasures we received. Then we loaded up and headed over to Conservative Parents' house for gifts over there (along with Kid Sister, T-Bear, and Cubbie) and a delicious brunch that included Conservative Dad's famous sausage gravy and biscuits.

Later that evening, we went back to Conservative Parents' house for a traditional Christmas dinner of turkey and all the fixings. Deeelicious, and the perfect end to Christmas Day.

Displaying the Nativity Set

Ask me about the Christmases of my childhood and I will most surely mention this little nativity set. When I was a little girl, I used to delight in setting up the nativity set when we decorated for Christmas.

My Sister and I regularly knelt before it and played with the pieces, or we simply crouched in front of it, gazing at Mary and Joseph and the three wise men and baby Jesus and the animals and the angel looking down over all of them.

Years ago, I laid down the law and said that once My Parents no longer wanted or had a place for it, the nativity set was coming with me. My Sister never protested—whether out of kindness or because she knew it was a battle she'd lose, I don't know.

When My Parents retired and moved to Georgia this year, the nativity set was delivered to our house (along with an abundance of random childhood and high school memorabilia).

So now it is on display in our little house in L-Town, and hopefully for many Christmases to come our little guy will gaze at it and play with the animals and enjoy it as much as I have.

A New Radio

As you may have noticed, I spend quite a bit of my spare time in the kitchen.

And often, when I'm not in the kitchen, I'm sitting nearby at the dining room table working or writing or reading.

In all the time we've lived in our house, I've had this feeling something was missing from this area.

And then, a while ago, I realized what the kitchen needed: a radio.



But I knew I didn't want just any radio. And so I spent quite some time thinking about what I wanted, searching for just the right thing.

And I found it, in all places, in My Sister's kitchen.

You see, she picked up an adorable little blue Tivoli radio at a yard sale back when she lived in Boston. It was a steal of a deal—$10, maybe $20. Whoever sold it had no idea what a gem the brand-new radio was, that it sold for around $150 normally.

So I pined for this radio that was out of my price range for years. I hoped (quite unrealistically) that I, too, might stumble across a garage sale bargain like My Sister did.

I gave up on that wish this winter, when it was time to think of my Christmas wish list, when I decided I would go ahead and ask for the darn radio that had been missing from my house for so long.

I picked out an equally retro-looking radio, much bigger than the Tivoli I coveted, but that looked nice and was an easier-to-stomach price.

Only we discovered, after Conservative Hubby dutifully purchased it for me as requested and even wrapped it up himself, that the sound of that darn radio was terrible. Absolutely horrible.

So back the cheaper radio went and I spent another month without my precious radio.

And then I broke down and did it. I chipped in on my own Christmas gift and ordered my dream radio, the little Tivoli that matches my retro kitchen beautifully and boasts wonderful, full sound for such a small package.


Right now, I am listening to a little "All Things Considered" while dinner cooks. Once Conservative Hubby joins me (because he is not a fan of NPR like I am--or at all), I'll switch to listening to some music from my iPod, which hooks up to the back of the radio.

I'm feeling a little Eric Clapton tonight to go along with our roasted cod, potatoes, and lemons.

It makes me happy, happy, happy to have this little friend on the countertop next to me. And it makes me want to spend even more time in the kitchen (if that's possible).

California Dreamin'

Since it's pretty darn frigid here right now, I've decided to extend my reminiscences about Christmas in California for one more winter day.


Why wouldn't I, when I have yet to show you the beautiful post-rain sky I spotted from the front door of My Sister's apartment?


And when I haven't shown you a few photos from the wackiness that is Venice Beach on Christmas Eve day ...


... the wackiness that Conservative Hubby said was making him break out in hives?


I know what you're thinking right now. "Ah, yes, that's the way to spend the holidays."


You know what else makes for a great holiday?


Dining on wonderfully fresh fish tacos at a big farmhouse table in My Sister's apartment.


Trust me, I know.


And to cap it all off, there's nothing like a stormy dusk walk on the beach.

Surfing Tales, Part 3

As I mentioned yesterday, about halfway through My Dad and Conservative Hubby's surfing adventure, My Dad decided to take a break.

And, because surfing instructor Peter had a van full of different-size surfboards and wetsuits, My Sister decided she'd take My Dad's place.


You see, she does a bit of surfing herself now that she lives so close to the beach. But because things were getting going so early and the water would be so darn cold, she decided she'd sit things out and keep My Mom and I company.

Only the water looked too inviting, so she had to give in to temptation.


Right away, she showed us how things are done.


Doesn't she make it look easy?

Then, while Conservative Hubby and My Sister waited for the perfect wave, I noticed there was something moving toward them in the water.


A fin! Ack! SHARK!

Only no, it was a dolphin. Two, actually. (They really are there in the photo above. You just have to use your imagination because I didn't have a long enough lens.)

So Conservative Hubby and My Sister hung out on their boards and watched the pair of dolphins swim past, then returned to surfing.

Meanwhile, on the beach, I snapped a photo of these fellows fishing. Apparently the older one is there quite often. My Sister said he fishes for little sharks, and often catches them.


At one point, we thought he had a big catch, but then the line snapped. I like to think he might have reeled in a shark had the line held, but then again since two of the most important people in my life were in the water at the same time, I'm going to go ahead and be thankful we didn't see any sharks.

There's not much more to say about the surfing adventure, so I leave you with one last photo of Conservative Hubby hanging ten while My Sister looks on.


I don't know if this is the proper use of "hanging ten," but it sounds really hip, like I'm all down with the surfing lingo.

So this chicken who didn't even get in the water is going to go ahead and use it, like she knows what she's talking about.

Surfing Tales, Part 2

Bright and early on Christmas Eve day the crew--My Mom, My Sister, and I the casual observers; My Dad and Conservative Hubby ready to hit the waves--headed down to the beach to meet Peter, the surf instructor.


Peter was, of course, exactly what you'd expect from a California surf instructor. Laidback. Lean and muscular. Shaggy blond hair. Willing to leave late for his Christmas Eve travels in order to squeeze in an extra surf lesson.

He met us in the parking lot by the beach and proceeded to pull surfboards and wetsuits out of the back of his white van.


My Dad and Conservative Hubby got geared up and we snapped the requisite pre-surfing photos. (Please note Conservative Hubby's loafers. Only Conservative Hubby would wear loafers while in a wet suit.)


Then we all headed for the beach.


And oh what a glorious surfing morning it was. Bright blue sky, sunshine, great beginner waves. It started out a bit chilly but got warmer as the morning progressed.


The boys began on land, of course, learning how to properly navigate the waves on their boards, how to stand, and what to do once they were standing.


My Mom and My Sister looked on.


Once the boys were good and practiced onshore, it was time to head for water.


And to promptly get knocked over by a wave.

My Dad came out of the chute ready to go.


He was on the board paddling.


He was breaking through waves.


He was making his move.


He was on his hands and knees.


He was almost up.


Almost.


There!


He was riding in


like a pro


thinking this was a piece of cake.


No problem.


And then he was off the board.


And then he was down.


Between Conservative Hubby and My Dad, we experienced more than a few glorious wipe outs. (This one was Conservative Hubby ... or at least his board.)


Conservative Hubby did not have the initial showy surfing skills My Dad exhibited--he was more careful, methodical, waiting for the right waves. But he may or may not be in slightly better shape than My Dad, so when they all came in for a break, My Dad decided he was sufficiently exhausted.


Conservative Hubby chilled for a minute,


reluctantly participated in my photo shoot, and then headed out again.


Only this time, the long-haired family member heading out with Conservative Hubby and Peter wasn't My Dad ... it was My Sister, who decided it was time to get in on the fun.

What happened next?

That, my friends, you'll have to wait and hear about tomorrow.

Returning

Oh, I'm sorry. Did I promise you that you'd get surfing photos? Way back in 2010? And did I say I'd post them right away and then proceed to fall off the face of the earth for over a week?

Oops.

My bad.

But it happens, you know. Especially when you can't tear your gaze away from the sunny California coast.


Or the equally sunny Gulf coast.


Or when you're on vacation for 10 blissful days sans computer.

You try finding the motivation to cull 240 surfing photos down into one blog post when there's sand and sun and surf waiting for you. Then let me know how it goes.

Probably about as well as it went for me, eh?

Alas, I'm landlocked once again. I'm armed with my computer once again. I'm (slowly ... reluctantly ... ) throwing off the fog of a lazy vacation filled with food and fun and family.

So I'll return to you soon. I'll post more surfing photos soon. (And a few food photos, if you're really nice to me.) Promise.

But I'm not going to promise it will be tomorrow, because we all know how well that worked out last time ...