Decorating Magazines Are Not Knocking At My Door

Some of my  favorite blogs are written by women who live in old farm houses painted pristine shades of white inside and out, and the furnishings are sparse.

They go quietly wild over Christmas by tramping outside to find enough cedar boughs to form a nice display for the front door, the tree is cut on their property and the few trimmings are hand-made.

So why am I the total opposite of these dedicated women? Beats me.

My tree is totally artificial, as are the decorations and if one strand of tinsel would make a statement I toss on an a truck-load.

Whatever drives me to do what I do, it's my comfort level at stake so I continue to do it while admiring the restraint of those minimalist ladies.

The dining room table is already set for Christmas day. There's a good reason for this--I do as much ahead as I can to have energy left for the last-minute work.

I guess it's too late to ask Santa for a better camera.

.

The  family of lambs are settled under the tree.

And here's Mr. Cheerful who is probably not fond of any of us over-the-top or carefully austere.

Merry Christmas to you anyway, you old coot.

An Exercise in Messiness

It's a good bet that I feel secure in my own skin  otherwise I wouldn't show you the aftermath of a lovely afternoon of Christmas baking.

I begin neatly, and then things just happen. I stop to water the plants, find three bottles of pure vanilla and pause to reflect on that, then wonder when I last used that big bag of whole wheat flour.  

 

The phone rings and I deal with those pesky snake oil sales people, run upstairs to Google how many children Mia Farrow has, all the while keeping a careful eye on the cookies.

Eventually the baking is done and when the last cookie is out of the oven, clean-up begins and the place again is pin-neat.

I'm not showing you pin-neat--but honestly, Dr. Jekyll never had a lab so pristine.

And all is well with my world.

Slap Happy Butterscotch Men

                           
  I made these people for the kids attending my son's staff Christmas party

They were going to be the usual gingerbread people until I ran across a recipe using dry butterscotch pudding mix. Add to a basic sugar cookie dough and there you are.

It tasted just fine.

I'm an all-thumbs kind  of person when it comes to using a pastry bag; either a little squiggle comes out when I want a big squiggle or it becomes a shapeless not-to-salvaged- blob.

So I ad lib.

A pair of tweezers and the back of the paring knife did the trick.They look pie-eyed but who will notice?

I mean,  the kids just want to lick  the icing anyway.