Reflection...

 After a family party, my sisters and I typically perform what we have come to call "a postmortem" on the event. One might say, "You had too many creamy dips; we should mix it up next year," or, "There was too much pepper in the dressing." (I ignore that one. It's hard to have too much pepper in the dressing.) We note what worked well, like where we set up the beverages and a reminder to have a bin available for recycling beverage containers. I keep notes, making the next event go a bit more smoothly. 

My sisters were not here for Christmas, so I am on my own doing a postmortem on the event. On Christmas Eve, we had our son-in-loves family here. Nine of us circled the table and dined on prime rib, mashed potatoes, broccoli/cauliflower salad, and popovers. Rachel made an amazing triple-layer coconut cake for dessert. The meal came out well, the table was prettily set, and the house was warm, cozy, and looked festive. I am pretty sure everyone had a good time.  Of course, the Owlet stole the show. She was dressed in an over-the-top metallic gold bow, booties, and tulle tutu.  Her paternal grandfather met her for the first time, and it made my eyes a little leaky to watch him take her into his arms and fall in love. She is the first grandchild on both sides of the family, so this is all new to us. New and wonderful. 

On Christmas day, I hopped up and took care of all the animals, then set to work making Schnecken. My boss sometimes brought Schnecken from a wonderful local bakery many years ago. It was like cinnamon buns, only so much better. They stopped making it, and we grieved a little. Then I tried baking it myself. It took a bunch of practice, but I finally came upon a recipe close to what we used to get and very special. I use bread dough made from the starter I've had for 27 years. I had mixed up the dough the day before and let it rise all night. In the morning, I kneaded it, set aside enough for two regular loaves of bread, and then rolled the rest out, pulling and stretching like I would pizza dough. Meanwhile, I melted some butter in a cake pan, added cinnamon, brown sugar, and pecans. I spread the dough with more cinnamon and brown sugar, then rolled it up, sliced it into disks, and tucked each into the pan on top of the buttery deliciousness. I covered it up and tucked it near the woodstove to rise a while.  While baking, it perfumed the air, and once baked, it was ready for snacking while we opened gifts.

Rachel, Evans, and the Owlet arrived around 10:00. Chris and I cooked breakfast, sausage, biscuits, and gravy, and we had a pleasant. leisurely meal. 

We meandered to the living room and opened gifts. Bravo and Flirt are familiar with the routine and waited expectantly by the stuffed stockings. They were not disappointed. Soft toys, gourmet cookies, and chewy things were there for them. Flirt even got a new coat to keep the winter chill away. 

Every year we say we are going to cut down on gifts. We worked hard to do that this year. As we settled around the tree, Rachel quipped, "You two did better, but that's a lot of presents. You failed."  It was kind of an excellent failure, I think. 

One unique thing about our family is that everyone puts a lot of thought into gift-giving. Chris is especially good at it, taking notes all year long if I mention something I'd like to have. Sometimes he thinks my desires are a little goofy. This year I desperately wanted special doormats from LLBean. They are a little pricey, and I have been too cheap to buy them for myself. Chris had them under the tree for me. He also had a sweet surprise. 

A chunky silver and pearl ring already sized to fit me perfectly. It's comfortable and so pretty. 

Rachel and Evans delighted me something special, too. 

This vintage piece was initially made as a wee ladies compact. Inside is a mirror and a place for some powder. Outside there is a lovely pattern on the front, and the back shows a stormy sea. A tempest, if you will.  It is now a locket with a photo of the Owlet inside. Perfect. 

Today is Boxing day. The day on which, 80 years ago, my parents married. 

The inscription on my mother's photo says, "With all my love, Dorothy." They were an attractive couple. As a child, I thought they were quite glamorous. Dad was a WWII GI (who fit into his master Sargent uniform until the day he died), and mom was a fashion model. When I was little, they frequently hosted parties, with dinner and dancing. I used to love to watch them dance together. As a child, we never really know what our parent's marriage was like, but I could see a spark between them, especially dancing. They always kissed before dad left for work and again when he came home. They said, "I love you," often. They cuddled at night. From the next room, I would hear my dad sleepily say, "Hug your back?" followed by the sound of my mom rolling over. They stayed together until death did them part, and I only remember them arguing one time. Of course, there were stresses. His mother was difficult. They had 5 kids. (5!) But they made it work. They were excellent role models in many ways. Here is an example. If we had a blizzard and the roads were impassible, my dad would get dressed for work (right down to the necktie) and set out to walk the 5 miles to his insurance office. I used to beg him to stay home. He would ruffle my hair and say, "People depend on me." A role model for sure. 

On Christmas day, niece Elyse Facetimed me. I saw my sisters, brother-in-law, 2 nieces, and one nephew gathered in the living room of the house my dad built. The same room all my childhood Christmas's happened in. It was sweet and gave me pause for reflection. Or even a postmortem of all the happy Christmas times of my life. And this year, it was more precious still, with an Owlet in my arms.