Domesticali

And it is done - Project 365

Oh the sweet relief of reaching the end. Project 365 is completed. I have captured a photo of almost every day this year. Although I did cheat on August 22nd, but I figure the cat looks the same every day, so it doesn't matter.

It hasn't made me a better photographer. Actually, sometimes I really resented having to pick up my camera and take a shot for the day and some of the photos are plain ugly. But there are also moments of sweetness captured that would otherwise have escaped. And I'm bizarrely proud of having seen the whole thing through (fourth time of trying).

So most unexpectedly, on the cusp of the New Year, I find myself contemplating carrying on. Perhaps I will. In some form at least.

This project - 'from where I stand' looks interesting....

Wishing you a Happy New Year and that you achieve everything you set out to.

Books of 2011 and reading resolutions

The slow days between Christmas and New Year are perfect for holing up and sticking one's head firmly in a book. Which is where mine has been for the last couple of days. Reading during daylight hours is a pleasure I usually deny myself, knowing that if I started, whole weeks would pass with nothing concrete to show for them. Consequently, my reading has to be slotted into the evenings and therefore tends to proceed at a much slower rate.

But in spite of this, the year has not been a bad one, volume wise. My Goodreads list records some 39 books (I tend not to count recipe, craft, reference books or re-reads) and my ratings say they were more good than bad. 

When I glance through the list though, I am struck by how many books I read for reasons other than me choosing them. A couple, I was checking out in order to wean Mark off his self imposed diet of non-fiction (The Chronicles of Ancient Darkness series has been a big hit in that respect). A couple I read with Johnny, some were book group books, or related to authors or genres we were covering and others were review copies, or lent to me by friends so I felt obliged to read them in order to be able to talk about them.

Unsurprisingly, the ones I loved the best, were the ones I chose just because they appealed to me at the moment I needed something new to read.

Which probably tells me something about what my reading resolution for 2012 ought to be. Read what you want - not what you feel you ought to. I might even be bold enough to allow myself to do it during the daytime.

 

Wrapping up

My very favourite part of the preparations is done and dusted - the Christmas wrapping. How I love the bit where you take all the things you've squirrelled away over the past few weeks and parcel them up prettily.

Those packages have so much hope invested in them - that they make the recipient happy, or their lives a little more comfortable, or more fun. But it is in that moment of handing over something obscured by wrapping, that the true importance of the gesture seems to me to really show. I am giving this to you, because I love you and I took care over it because you are special. And in a sense, what is inside becomes the least important thing of all.

Johnny made air dried clay tags, with alphabet and snowflake stamps for our packages. He has honestly been the best Elf this Christmas. I love watching him do this sort of thing. So careful, so thoughtful and suddenly so competant - my little one is growing up.

If I don't catch you again this side of the 25th, I wish you the Merriest of Christmases. And thank you for the gift you give on every occasion you visit here and spend time with me.

My trusty assistant

Never before has it taken me until December 19th to decorate the tree. It's rather wonky, but I am truly past caring. It is done. I must have looked ill, because Johnny took pity on me and helped me to decorate it. Which led to this exchange:

Johnny:   No, we can't have that bauble there.

Me:   Why not?

Johnny:   Look - it's in line with that one.

Me:   Silence. Eyes boggling.

Johnny:    My mother is very particular about these things, you know.

Sigh - I can take to my bed happy, knowing that my parenting work is done. I have produced a child who is as neurotic about the Christmas Tree as I am.

Don't come too close

Germ alert - am I the only one whose offspring always seem to celebrate the beginning of their Christmas holidays with a stinking cold? They are back on fighting form, but have passed their lurgy on to us, and I for one am feeling rather sorry for myself and not remotely festive. In fact, I am ashamed to say that we reached the 15th of December without putting up a single decoration. That's unheared of round these parts. So in spite of feeling grotty, I forced myself to put up our plastic fantastic version yesterday.

Perhaps the twinkly lights will work their magic and I'll wake up tomorrow full of verve. Then we can go and buy the real tree. Though the plans for that could be scuppered by hubby not returning - he's stuck on an iced up plane somewhere in Northern Europe. One de-icing truck has broken down, the second has run out of de-icer and the third is valiantly attempting to keep the whole airport open. It may be a long night....

I saved him a jelly though - good for sore throats. The squirty cream is just good for morale.

 

Orderly Urges

December always seems to bring out the urge to blog. Perhaps because in this space everything can be pretty and orderly and under control. Real life is so disappointing in those areas sometimes, don't you find?

Today is the day of Johnny's Nativity Play. He is an angel. A very disgusted angel - not sure if it is because of the white tights or the dancing. I hasten to add, he has not been singled out for humiliation - his entire class are angels. I plan to take a LOT of pictures, so I can blackmail him when he is a stroppy teenager.

The child who already shows signs of being a stroppy teenager gave me an honest, heartfelt hug today. On his classroom steps. Now that was unexpected. But very lovely too. I think it's because I decided to help him find his lost rugby boots instead of yelling at him for being irresponsible. I did the yelling yesterday - about another episode of flakiness on his part. Perhaps he took it on board. Christmas is the season of miracles, after all. And I found the boots. Happiness all round.

The kitchen has been a hubub of activity this morning. I've made Tupperware chorizo (Gill said it's really good - I like a personal recommendation) a batch of cinnamon biscuits and one of chocolate and ginger thins. I gave only eaten three, which shows steel-like self control on my part, don't you think? Mind you - half of them are still in the oven, so the body-count may well rise.

My neighbour has hired men to cut holes in the tarmac driveway so he can plant a hedge. This seems a plan doomed to failure to me. There is much thudding going on and plumes of filth. My cats are traumatized.

Yesterday, I wrote a Christmas card to my Aunt in New Zealand. Her card to us always arives in November. She is very organized. I went to post it, saw the queue in the Post Office and put it back in my bag. I am sorry Aunty Betty - it's going to be late again.

My phone number transfer has worked! So now my shiny new iPhone is fully functional. It has been many years since I felt so much excitement over a birthday present - took the sting out of turning 40 completely. I have Siri. Thimbleanna is using hers for sensible things. I am dictating lots of texts to the people who used to text me ALL THE TIME even though I was so hopeless at texting that it would take me 15 mins to prod out Yes, see you at 9.30 in reply.

The children also keep hi-jacking Siri to ask it things like "What are you wearing?" and "Would you like a cup of tea?". They are quite frustrated, having never before come across an adult they couldn't wind up. I think Siri might have the last laugh.

I have knit my phone a little sock to keep it warm. And a baby vest. And a silk necklace and a washcloth (not for the phone). I will get round to showing them at some point I'm sure.

Right - mind-dump concluded - hope your day is going well.

The 641 series

Do you ever hear about those people for whom receiving something of a household persuasion under the Christmas Tree would be grounds for divorce? I'm not one of them. Kitchen gadgetry? Bring it on. A new recipe book? Itching to test it out.

In fact, I derive as much pleasure outside of the kitchen from my cookbook collection (in all its colour coded glory). I have a special bookcase devoted to my recipe books. Some are old workhorses - an original Delia Smith's Cookery Course in three volumes - still my go to choice for the measurements for yorkshire puddings or custard. I own multiple titles from my favourite cookery writers - Nigel and Nigella - national treasures both, for their ways with the words they write as much as for the recipes they suggest.

There's not physical space for too many more. But I cannot help acquiring them. So it should be no surprise at all that when the nice folk at WHSmith asoked if they could send over a book for me to take a look at, that I found myself happy to oblige. And they chose for me a great volume - River Cottage everyday.

I'm showing you the back cover, not as much for the beetroot salad, as much as for those little line drawings added onto the plate. The whole book is full of them - like doodles in the margin. Which appeals to me hugely, as I am always scribbling in my cookbooks. Jotting down tweaks to a recipe, or the date I first tried it, or who I've fed it to if it is more of a special occasion dish. Making suggestions to myself for a good accompaniment the next time I cook it.

This, for me, is why an internet search for a recipe will never completely replace owning a volume and why my bookshelves will continue to groan under the weight of yet another book full of things which have been sampled, or ones I long to try. Which in the case of River Cottage everyday includes Tupperware Mexican chorizo, Honey Wholemeal cake and Egg tartare. Not all at the same sitting, I hasten to add.

Parcels shaped like books are always a welcome addition under the tree. Luckily for me, hubby views them as the gift which gives twice - the pleasure of reading for me and the obvious benefits to them as resident taste testers. But Santa, a bookshelf extension wouldn't go amiss either.

What is your cookbook crush of the moment? Just in case the big red guy needs a little steer.