Photo courtesy Erica Porter
In my last post before my Christmas Eve post, I told you that on that very day, we were hosting a small get-together.
Which we did. It was a cold day -- the coldest day we'd experienced so far on this end of the year.
And our friend Marsha was coming by after work, which meant she would be here at five fifteen.
Too early for dinner and besides, that's not what the party was.
But certainly a substantial snack was needed, and I felt that it should be hot.
I could make you privy to the many machinations of the pirate mind in this regard, but I'll cut to the chase.
Audrey and Dagny were joining us, and TG was out running errands for me.
He would have his supper later. Or at least that was my plan.
Anyone can make corn muffin tops
My mother used to say, use what you have. So instead of going in a more elaborate direction, here is what I did.
I made my zhuzhed-up macaroni and cheese -- Kraft Deluxe, with milk and lots of hand-shredded sharp cheddar added, and even more cheese on top, and baked to bubbly goodness -- served in my Pioneer Woman ramekins.
For which I have the matching pig dishes.
One normal-sized box of the mac and cheese made exactly four ramekins.
To go alongside the mac and cheese, I made corn muffin tops.
That requires a special pan, which I happen to have. It's a useful pan for baked eggs too.
Pioneer Woman dishes make everything taste better
The corn muffin tops are a favorite at my house and two of them nestled beside the ramekin of bubbly creamy mac and cheese was ideal for our purposes.
Everyone gathered and we savored each bite, as well as one another's company.
There was a modest gift exchange, and then we enjoyed the pumpkin bread I had made that morning.
It all went off without a hitch. However, the party lasted much longer than I had anticipated.
Poor TG ended up eating leftovers and that made my heart hurt but I was painted into a corner somewhat.
(Marsha had told me that she could only stay an hour, but her situation had changed and it was eight o'clock before everyone had gone home.)
Our napery was no less festive for being papery
(Fortunately for me, my TG would cut his own tongue out before he would complain.)
We got some cute pictures of the group though, for posterity (TG took them), and it was a truly nice and relaxed festive time with our friend.
How could I have known that there were rapids ahead of those calm waters?
Remember how I told you that when I came down with bronchitis a few weeks ago, I at first thought I had dodged a bullet? That I had suffered only a glancing blow from a noncommittal cold?
And that just when I thought I was out of the woods, a tree fell on me?
Well this time, I didn't even know I was IN the woods when a tree fell on me.
Our dear friend Marsha
Allow me to elaborate.
On the evening of the twenty-first -- last Thursday -- Dagny spent the night with us.
She wanted to be here when her cousins from North Carolina arrived at midday on Friday, to celebrate Melanie's birthday and our Christmas with them.
And we wanted to watch a Christmas movie, and she chose Elf, which I had never seen.
(And which -- trust me -- I will never see again if I can help it. Mercy. What nonsense.)
Anyway, as we sat watching the movie that night, I wondered why I had been feeling a tad bit off that day -- TG even asked me if I was okay -- and why, as we watched the movie, I felt more dreadful by the minute.
Audrey and Dagny :: Audag
All questions were answered when I woke up the next day with what I at first thought was a severe head cold.
But which I shortly realized was the flu.
With the whole raft of symptoms one associates with that malady: fever, cough, sneezing, chills, aches, and generalized mega-misery.
We would be twelve that evening for a birthday dinner and then our "first" Christmas, with Stephanie and her family.
It was a nightmare.
I told everyone to avoid coming near me, and promised to wash my hands frequently, which I do anyway.
Marsha's gift awaiting her attention
For dinner we were having meatball pull-aparts. I made the meatballs that morning and got them simmering -- fully cooked -- in a Crock Pot of marinara.
Later I dug out the centers of two huge packages (sixteen each) of Hawaiian rolls, making thirty-two little divots.
I brushed the tops with garlic parsley butter and lined each divot with shredded mozzarella, tucked a saucy meatball in on top of that, and put lots more mozzarella on top.
Those got baked up and melty and, although I couldn't enjoy any food, everyone told me they were good.
Alongside those we had Velveeta-Rotel dip and Mission tortilla strips.
We also had a beautiful vegetable tray with Ranch dip, that my girls put together.
After the meal, Melanie opened her presents.
For our dessert I'd made pumpkin bread
Stephanie had ordered a cupcake cake at our Publix and had picked it up that afternoon.
For some reason not clear to me, the cupcakes were arranged in the shape of a llama. I never really got close enough to see the llama but that's what they said it was.
I couldn't eat a cupcake either but everyone seemed to enjoy those too.
In due time we repaired to the den/TV room to have Christmas.
Stephanie and her family left for the three-hour drive to their home in North Carolina at about nine o'clock, and everyone else was gone soon after.
It's mostly a blur except for one special memory. Keep reading lest you expire from the sheer torture of anticipation.
The little houses were lit on the kitchen mantel
Every year for the past many years, we have given our grandson -- we call him Little Andrew to distinguish him from our son, Andrew -- the annual collectors' truck from Hess.
Andrew will turn twelve in February.
These are impressive toys -- well made, high quality, with lots of bells and whistles. The genuine article.
They've gone up in price a full ten dollars since I've been buying them, but each year around Labor Day I ask Andrew if he still wants the truck, and he always says yes, without hesitation.
I ask him, because with a few small exceptions, due to its cost it's the only thing I can get him.
But this year, I forgot to ask him if he wanted it.
It was the coldest day in late late fall
And when Hess let me know the truck was available for purchase, I just bought it, thinking why not.
Even in my weakened condition that night at the party, though, I could tell that Andrew was not as into the truck (it's actually a truck and a car that fits inside it), as he'd perhaps been in previous years.
But Rhett lost his mind over it.
I wish you could have seen that child's face when that truck was activated -- it comes with the batteries already installed -- with all of the many lights and the sirens and the extra car lit up too.
He flipped. His eyes never left it and as much he was allowed to in the midst of all the action, he played with it.
But there came a time when the adults thought it prudent to return the whole thing to its box and reunite it with the rest of Andrew's opened presents.
TG took this picture of Audag, Marsha, and me
Lest Rhett get too attached to someone else's gift.
But it was too late. The corners of Rhett's mouth turned towards his shoelaces. His big blue eyes filled with tears of despair.
He didn't pitch a fit; he was truly heartbroken. He's only two.
I looked at my older grandson. Andrew, I said, If I gave you fifty dollars (he would be getting more than I paid by about three dollars but I'm all about rounding up), would you give me back that truck?
At first he didn't understand what I was asking, so I asked him again.
And he said that yes, he would. It's not that I don't like it, he said, not wanting to appear ungrateful. But I have seven of them lined up under my bed as it is.
One of my gifts from Marsha was this adorable mug
Fair enough.
TG transferred the funds to Andrew and Andrew transferred the truck, tucked into its box, to me.
I looked at Rhett, standing next to me, whose eyes never left the box as it moved closer to him, even though he had no idea what was going on.
This is yours, I said, handing him the big green-and-white box.
You guys. If there could be a picture of Christmas perfection in the countenance of a child, it was there in that baby's face.
He understood immediately that the truck was his. He looked at his mother.
Say thank you, she said.
Thank you, he whispered to me. (He often whispers what he has to say to you.)
Henry was so delighted with his turtleneck, he took a selfie
A short while later, as everyone was upstairs in the kitchen preparing to leave, I heard the truck hit the floor.
Erica said something and then Rhett burst into loud sobs.
I didn't have the energy to go up there and see what was going on, but I could tell that the truck had been put back into its box for the trip home.
Rhett thought that it was going to be taken away from him.
He fell asleep five minutes out of our driveway, and Erica took the picture you see at the top of this post.
It's one of those precious memories that we will talk about for many years to come.
Our Christmas morning Dutch Baby
And I reckon I will be buying a Hess collectible truck at Christmas for many years to come too -- only for a different grandson than the one I'm used to buying it for.
The next day -- last Saturday -- I slept most of the day. All of the flu symptoms were still present and accounted for.
On Christmas Eve, sometime in the morning, the fever went away. Which made me feel about fifty percent better.
I did not go to church, but we went ahead with our traditional Christmas Eve buffet that evening, after which we all open our stockings.
Audrey and Dagny spend the night here on that night as well as the next, and no one cares how late they stay up.
For our buffet I made something that I saw on Instagram, and which I will be making again on New Year's Day.
Warm berry compote
All agreed that Naughty Hammie Sammies must become a staple party sandwich at Chez Weber.
Truly amazing. Scrumptious, soft, warm, savory, sweet, comforting -- these were words I heard murmured around the table in between mouthfuls. TG was especially impressed.
When you make these, do not make the mistake of changing the recipe in any way -- especially not by adding cheese. They are divine just the way they are. If you change them, you'll ruin them.
I also made bacon-wrapped Lit'l Smokies and whipped up a tangy barbecue-type sauce to dip them in.
We had our traditional cheese ball and cracker tray, and Erica brought a fabulous carrot-apple slaw.
Desserts and treats had been accumulating so there was no need to make anything else for the sweets part of the meal.
Christmas table :: finally the big day came
After dinner we all went down to the TV room and watched It's A Wonderful Life, a/k/a the greatest Christmas movie of all time.
Cherica loaded up the boys and went home, and the rest of us went to bed.
On Christmas morning it was raining, and it rained all that day and all of the next. But it was not a cold rain; just a sloppy one.
I love rainy days so that aspect of the holiday pleased me.
How was I feeling? Not good, but not as bad as I had been. It's the best I can do.
But we still had a lovely Christmas dinner consisting of ham, ranch potato casserole, broccoli casserole, Crock Pot creamed corn, Southern ambrosia, my kicked-up deviled eggs, and whole-berry cranberry sauce (from a can, which delighted our Chad, who loves to put that atop the ham slices on his plate).
Southern ambrosia
That morning I had made a pecan pie, and when that was out of the oven I made a Dutch Baby with warm berry compote.
Between me, TG, Audrey, and Dagny, we devoured every crumb at brunch time. We had our dinner at six thirty.
And we had another who's-your-daddy Christmas gift exchange, with paper and tissue flying everywhere, and it was a special time.
In other news, Henry received his turtleneck and posted a picture of himself on WhatsApp, which my sister and her children and grandchildren use. My sister sent me the picture of Henry modeling his shirt.
He called me on Christmas Day to thank me for it, and to tell me how much he loved it. Audrey has sent him the same shirt in burgundy and I think he'll flip when he sees that.
As for much-loved gifts, I am especially enamored of the Pirate Bible given to me by Cherica.
My treasured Pirate Bible
It is AI generated, based on the King James Bible. It's not meant to be a replacement for the Bible, but to be read for enjoyment and to perhaps illuminate certain passages in a way that delights the heart.
John chapter one, verse one, for example: 'Twas the start o' things, and the Word sailed with God, and the Word be God.
Later in that chapter: 'Twas a man sent from th' Almighty, John bein' his name. Arr! The same scallywag set sail as a witness, t' bear witness o' the Light so all me hearties through 'im could come t' faith.
He weren't that Light, but was sent t' testify of that Light.
Avast ye! That be the true Luminescence a-shinin', illuminatin' each swab that sails into the seven seas.
Anyway. I like it. I like it a great deal indeed. The pirate be approvin' it an' we'll leave it there.
Meanwhile I have updated my new calendars and planners -- I have several -- and it is sunny and warmish today, and I'm still under the weather a wee bit but thankful for all improvement in that area.
The Pirate Bible, open to Psalms Chapter One
I am in possession of perhaps twenty percent of my senses of taste and smell, which went completely away on Christmas Eve.
Do not freak out. Did you know that any number of viruses can cause the temporary cessation of those senses? It does not have to be the C word, and I will not even type it. And no, I did not get tested.
I stayed home and got rested. As much as I could.
It is what it is. And whatever it was, it's in the rear view mirror now.
BUT I certainly hope that you are well, and that you will remain so, and that you have extra-happy plans for your New Year's Eve and New Year's Day.
Ours will be more of the same: We will go to church and we will gather to enjoy food.
We are extraordinary only in our ordinariness. But there's nothing wrong with that, and there's a lot right with it.
Don't you agree?
I hope so.
And that is all for now.
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Happy Thursday
