The hustle, the bustle. I can accurately claim neither, having just emerged from a fireside nap on the hard floor. In our home, we keep a tradition of letting the kids open a shared gift on a day where it feels like Christmas, be it November, December or beyond. This year, the day fell upon
To be fair, I’m not a present purist. When it comes to Christmas, there are few philosophies I stand by universally, except this: the best gifts for the ones you love are the ones they’ll love. What this means, for my own small crew, is that no matter how much I want to dole out
Finally: puzzle season. Candied pecans on the stove, Bing Crosby on the speakers. This is the time of year in which we all share excitement over something. For some, it’s sterile snow falling in sheets. Others, a warm, glistening tree and a tower of packages. Still others, your grandmother’s eggnog recipe. Me? Jigsaw puzzles.
Hey you. I know you’re out there, bustling with everyday stuff on top of non-everyday stuff. Maybe you’ve just shut down your computer and you’re heading out the lobby for the last time in ’17. Maybe you’re headed out the door to drop the kids off at school or daycare, or maybe not at all
Listen. I don’t claim to know a thing or two about cooking or baking or sauteeing, about chiffonade techniques or a parboil. If you point me in the direction of a culinary kitchen, I will be unable to name approximately 84% of the available trappings. Basting and barding and blanching? Foreign languages. But food placing?
Holiday excitement hit early in these parts. We started our annual Christmas puzzle in October (I know, I know) and have gone through no less than three sacks of flour since. The garden rosemary is dwindling; the cinnamon restocked twice. For two weeks now, I’ve passed the hallway and smiled at the quiet glow of
It happens every year, without fail. Around early December, Ken will peer at my phone on the kitchen counter and see dozens of incoming texts from my friends’ husbands. He’ll raise an eyebrow. Gift suggestions, I’ll say. For all of them?! he’ll ask. Yep. All of them. It’s what I do, I suppose. Some girlfriends
Roughly nine years ago, I wrote gift guides for a living. I’d title them with sly, witty link bait like, ’10 Genius Gifts For Your Co-Ed Nephew Who Swears His Alarm Clock Is Broken But We’ve Seen The Timestamp On His Twitter Feed.’ I don’t do gift guides anymore. — Once, years ago, I scoured