Homemade Christmas

This past fall when a good friend introduced me to the Advent Conspiracy I was inspired! What if I spent less this Christmas on things like gifts and decor? What if I took the money I saved and gave it away? What if everyone did this, what kind of difference could we make in this world?

My husband and I decided that the way we would "conspire" this year was to give only homemade gifts. I broke out the old sewing machine, and after a lesson on how to thread it from a friend, I was off. From a few simple ideas stole from craft blogs our house was transformed into Santa's workshop. I loved putting new fabrics together in interesting ways. The sound of my machine humming along while a Jane Austen book played in the background made me peaceful. I was well on my way to finishing over 30 homemade gifts for the season.

While all of this was going on, my family was getting in on the act. I had a vision of a white paper Christmas. Instead of buying new decorations to add to my haul, we purchased one ream of white copy paper. From this humble beginning our Winter Wonderland would emerge. Hundreds of paper strips became the paper chain that now covers my celling. My husband discovered his gift for cutting out delicate and exquisite snowflakes. Lastly a dozen origami cranes flew in to give new life to my old fake green wreath.

I was feeling pretty Martha Stewart about the whole thing, and had even mailed off two boxes of gifts when I left to pick my kids up from school on Tuesday. While driving 55 on the highway a pick up truck pulled out in front of me without warning. I smashed into him at near full speed in my almost new car. My car didn't make it, but thanks to the grace of God I did. I have no broken bones, just tons of soft tissue damage in my neck, back, arms and legs. This damage makes it difficult for me to sit for any length of time (this blog has been done in many starts and stops) without my hands falling asleep or my neck deciding it is time to quit.

Now my sewing machine sits on the dining room table with my last project still hanging from the needle. It, along with about 5 other projects will remain unfinished for now. My dear husband is working his tail off to keep up the house, cook the meals (he does a lot of that anyway), and keep up at work. He does this all with out one word of complaint, and a smile upon his face. The kids help out as much as they can as I sit and stretch and try to heal.

I am the kind of person who feels the need to create. I paint, sew, and write, not so much for others, but more for myself. Long ago I realised that it was the simple fact that we are crated in the image of God, the Great Creator, that gives us all the innate ability to create. The creative process is for me a form of worship. The connection I feel with my Lord when I am expressing myself is beyond description. But now in this season of healing I will have to learn how to simply "be still" and know Him.

So, my Martha Christmas will have to wait. There are dear friends and family members who gifts will arrive sometime in January. I refuse to go out and spend in a desperate attempt to get something in the mail. After all , I am part of a conspiracy and that is not to be taken lightly!

Soft Spice Bars (one of the many ways my husband is spoiling me)
3/4 cup butter melted
1 cup plus 1 tbls. sugar divided
1/4 cup molasses
1 egg
2 cups all purpose flour
2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp cloves
1/2 tsp ginger
1/2 tsp. salt

In mixer or mixing bowl combine butter 1 cup sugar and molasses. Beat in egg until smooth.
Combine flour, baking soda, cinnamon, cloves, ginger and salt. Stir into molasses mixture.
Spread into a well greased 15x10x1 baking pan (reg sized cookie sheet works great)
Sprinkle with remaining 1 tbls. sugar
Bake at 375 for 10-12 min. or until lightly browned. Do not over bake.
Cool and cut into bars.

The Land that Time Forgot

Whenever we head to what my children refer to as the "Big City" (I am speaking of Kennewick, WA. Never heard of it, that is ok, I hadn't either until I moved here. Trust me it's not that big, but they do have a Target and a mall!) the first thing my 10 year old daughter wants to do is ride the escalators. That's right nothing makes that child smile like a flight of moving stairs. She could ride them up and down all day long. Heck, who needs Disneyland when you have thrill rides just two and a half hours away.

You always hear people sing the praises of small town child rearing. In fact when you ask the average person why they have returned to The Valley, the most common response you will hear is "I wanted to raise my kids here". I though I fully understood the pros and cons of a small town upbringing, after all I didn't exactly grow up in a metropolis. But growing up in the suburbs in California did not even begin to prepare me for my current parenting experience.

When I first met my husband I would listen to the stories of his child hood and think "he has got to be making this stuff up". His youthful antics sounded more like the memories of my parents than of someone my own age. A common phrase in our marriage has become "we grew up 700 miles and 35 years apart". But I was sure times had changed and that the "modern" Valley would be nothing but a shadow of the place he once called home. Yet again, I was wrong.

Sometimes I think this is the land that time forgot. One of my favorite past times when I am volunteering at my kid's school is to look at the class pictures of years gone by. (Our children attend my hubby's Alma Mater.) There is very little change from year to year and decade to decade. Sure the 80's tend to stand out with "the hair". But other than that the variations are quite small. Each class of around 20 children sports much of the same basic look, jeans and collared button-ups. I must say that is precisely what my kids wore this year on picture day. Boots still tend to be the norm, I think this has less to do with fashion than function. Most of these kids still have outside chores each morning before school.

This is the school where Dodge Ball has not been outlawed, it remains a class favorite during PE. The same school boasts a yearly Christmas Play. That's right Christmas, not Winter Play or even Holiday. (Please don't tell the ACLU, the kids love it and I would hate to see third graders drug from the auditorium in hand-cuffs.) My children attend class in the same classrooms my husband and his siblings once sat in. They eat in the same small cafeteria where lunch is prepared daily by local Moms complete with fresh baked rolls. As a parent you can join your child for lunch any day you wish, without calling ahead, for 3 bucks! In this same cafeteria, ornate hand made gingerbread houses provide a festive feel through the month of December. When the month ends one lucky child from each class will have their name drawn and get to take this treasure home.

I often fear when I take my kids to cities like Portland or LA when we visit family. I am not afraid for their safety. I am afraid they will not know how to act. They don't understand the subtle nuances of how people act in a city. They are not aware of how much space to allow people in crowded areas. They are use to everyone around them looking and talking just like them. I try to expose them to different cultures and foods, but there are just some things you miss out on. They do love sushi, so I must be doing something right as a parent.

So, I am thinking about some sort of cultural exchange program. I will take my LA nieces for a few weeks each summer. They can come here and learn the finer points of Dodge Ball, camping, fishing and getting dirty. And I can send my two munchkins down to my sister for lessons in shopping, culture and escalator etiquette. After all, I don't think my daughter understands why people get upset when she runs up the down  escalator. I think they just need to get off of her ride.

The World's Best Peanut Butter Cookies
(I believe this recipe first came from my great-aunt Thelma. But they are the perfect cookie when you don't want to run to the store for ingredients.)
1 cup Peanut Butter
1 cup sugar
1 egg
(yes, that is all!)

Mix together. Spoon by teaspoonful onto ungreased cookie sheet. Press flat with the back of a fork.
Bake at 375 about 11 min.
Makes 1 doz cookies (if you don't eat too much dough)

Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree...

Remember those Hallmark commercials when we were kids? The family would tromp through a winter wonderland where they would find the perfect Christmas tree. They would cut it down, pull it back to their log cabin on a sleigh where they would decorate it with their million dollar collection of Keepsake Ornaments.

Yeah, right like that would ever happen!!

To say that my Mother was creative when it came to our family's Christmas trees when I was a child would be an understatement. We were three ladies, living on a hairdresser's salary in California. So the beautiful trees at the fancy Tree Farm were out of the questions. Sure we went there every year, we rode the hayride, drank the hot cider and ogled the decor in the gift shop. But we never purchased the spendy specimens found in their lots.

My Mom had other plans for our nod to this traditional Christmas decoration. There was the year that we headed to the lake where we cut down a Manzanita tree. Oh and who could forget the year that we decorated our silk ficus? Yes, my Mother had an amazing way of turning lemons into the most spectacular lemonade. The year did come when there was enough extra to purchase an artificial tree, which from then on did the honors in our home. We hated that tree. We mocked my Mom year after year, secretly wishing for her less conventional options.

Yesterday morning we loaded up our family and headed up to the mountains. Into the back of our all wheel drive rig (that is what we call any vehicle in these parts) we tossed in a saw, hot chocolate, blankets and snack. For 5 bucks they let you cut your own tree on public land. (Had this been available when I was a kid we would not have tempted fate and the law with that Manzanita. I do hope the statutes of limitations is up!)

Now, in years past this process has taken hours. It usually begins with us loading up the truck and heading up Fox Hill Road. About half way up this steep climb, our two wheel drive pick-up begins to slide backwards and I begin to panic. Thankfully my husband does not. He simply backs down the road and finds another location. We always end up somewhere up Spring Creek. By then I am in a bit of a foul mood (I know my family would call it more than a bit, but they are not writing this are they?) and will settle for nothing less than perfection. It takes hours for me to look over each tree in the forest. By the time the light begins to fade I make a quick pick. When we get it home my ever patient hubby trims and shapes my poor choice into something presentable.

Back to yesterday. We left the house at 8:45 am and made the brilliant move to stop at Starbucks on our way (everything is better when there is a latte in your hand). Instead of attempting Fox Hill in a two wheel drive we headed straight up Spring Creek in our AWD. The roads were icy, but the hottie behind the wheel got us up the mountain safely.  I, of course decided to begin looking for a tree where the road dropped off on a sheer cliff (I have never claimed I was much of outdoors woman). We scrambled down and into a beautiful grove of trees. Now for those who have never hunted down a wild Christmas Tree, let me take a minute to explain. Trees growing in groves are extremely deceptive. They look all full and lush, but only because they are all smashed together. It is not one full well rounded tree, but three or four scrawny ones huddling together for warmth that you are seeing.  So as the kids found an icy patch of snow to slide down on their bellies a la penguin style David and I searched for the elusive Christmas tree. With in 30 minutes we had two beautiful specimens loaded onto the top of the Santa Fe and were headed back down the road. They didn't even fall off on the freeway. Whew!

Now, this may not have been nearly as exciting as my Mothers law-breaking adventures, but we did have a pretty nice time as a family. Maybe Hallmark wasn't as wrong as I thought when I was a child. Maybe the Hallmark people just live in Oregon.

Tortilla Soup (a great way to warm up after the "hunt")
1 lg. ripe tomato
1 lg. onion chopped
1 clove garlic
6 c. chicken broth
tortillas
corn oil
salt and pepper to taste
avocado
grated cheese

Put tomato in broiler 8-10 min. Peel skin, put into blender.
In a small amount of oil cook oil and garlic, cook until onion is transparent. Season and add to blender. Blend.
Transfer to stock pot and add broth. Cook until slightly thickened.
Cut tortillas into strips and fry in corn oil. Cut Avocado into chunks and put some into each bowl. Add soup and top with cheese and tortilla chips.