We're a week into December and the hustle of the Christmas holiday seems to be at maximum grind. There remain decorations to be put up, my Christmas cards will be done this week. I've done little, if any shopping, and fortunately my list isn't a big one, and I'll wipe it clean in one or two visits to local stores.
I'm hosting a small party this year, my first since Jeff died, so there will be cleaning to do, menu-planning, a toilet to be scrubbed.
Then there is baking. Jeff and I used to bake a busload of his grandmother's sugar cookies each year and frost them in lurid colors. We took them to parties and gave them to co-workers. I don't know that the cookies tasted all that great (I think they did and he and I ate enough of them through the season), but honestly, it was the frosting.
The first year we made cookies, we agreed frosting was key. We remembered frosting cookies as kids and being admonished for using too much icing. We were adults now and decided it was our house, our cookies, and by God, there would be lots of frosting.
Our cookies provided the most intense sugar rush, the frosting thick, decadent. We used as much coloring as needed to get deep, rich colors. Sometimes, we added sprinkles or those little silver pellets that look like BB gun ammo.
I made a small batch of cookies last year with my sister, at Dad's request. He wanted sugar cookies like his mother made and fortunately, I had her cookie cookbook and we did our best to recreate those cookies for him.
Today, I'm baking with three women. Each of us is to bring a cookie and candy recipe. I've loaded two large boxes with bowls, mixers, ingredients. I'm taking fun Christmas music. And wine.
I found a sugar cookie recipe (after Jeff died, I couldn't take seeing his handwriting and threw out his grandmother's recipe) and made the dough last night. I'm not sure of the results and it doesn't matter. If they fail, I will continue to search for the best recipe.
Christmas was a big deal for Jeff and I. His grandmother's cookies were part of that. This is my third holiday without him. The first year, I just wanted to get through it. Last year, I determined to reclaim the season and make my own traditions (with a mix our old ones) and I started with a small tree and a few of our collected ornaments.
This year, I'm busting loose. I bought another tree and most of our ornaments are now on display. Decorations have branched out around the house, including a fat, stuffed Santa Claus from Montgomery Ward Jeff bought the year before he met me. It is the first time Santa has been on display in more than five years.
Last night, I drove into Manchester to do my grocery shopping for today's baking and I took some time to look at all the houses lit up, including a co-worker who takes the season to heart. Her yard and home was joyous and I practically cheered her spirit of fun.
Now, let it snow.
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