Skip to main content

Christmas Day

On Christmas morning, we woke up around six in the morning and built a fire.

 


I set the table in red placemats and runner that we received as a wedding gift. The three boots belonged to my grandparents. I don't know why there are only three, but my guess is there is one for each of their three children.


My Christmas bouquet from Nathan. I still have it here at the table, and it is still beautiful.


My Christmas roast was too large for my crock pot. I was very upset and tied some plastic over the pot until the roast thawed enough for me to push it down and put the lid on.


It was good, really good. Dinner time was some twelve hours later, and I forgot to take a picture of the finished roast.


Later that day I finished the tree skirt I had started on Christmas Eve (obviously I intended to sew this some weeks before :/ ).

 
(That means I will have to leave up the tree for another month so we can look at it.)

Labels:

Popular posts from this blog

The secret to a happy home

I finished Marion Harland's guide tonight and I wonder ceaselessly at two things. 1. She is so down on America! Even more than I am. She complains of things in which I am so well-steeped I could not see them for what they were. In particular, American style and cookery. It is true that our food, which we count as so much more generous in portion than the overseas counterpart, is as coarse and indecorous as it is plentiful, but as an American woman I cast up my hands and declare I would rather spend my time on something else. She makes an interesting point about American women's fashions. In France women wear what looks good on them, and in America women wears what comes off the manufacturing line in the latest style. It is very conformist, and I have to admit I feel it in myself, for I would be embarrassed to wear something that is "out" even if it flattered me better. 2. Harland's other point I feel clearly from last night's experiences. I looked in my journ...
more &

Helen Keller

Reading this Women of Influence book is causing me to remember another of my great childhood loves -- "The Miracle Worker," the story of Anne Sullivan and Helen Keller. It was Anne Sullivan I really loved, and still love -- it always made me heartsick to think of her sacrifice, devoting every waking minute to another human being, with almost no life left to herself, until she died in old age, and Helen Keller required another translator. But God -- she must have known it -- that's the best way to live -- it is to have every moment of your life swallowed in supreme goodness and satisfaction. No wonder I loved her, and no longer do I feel sorry for her -- I envy her. I thought of her today perhaps because when I was around eight or nine I grew aware that she and I shared the same initials "AS." Today is the first day that I am Amanda Monteleone at work, and I have written my initials "AM" dozens of times already. It's strange, but the satisfaction of...
more &

Sprouts

Sprouts Originally uploaded by ladyhildegarde . I am getting sprouts. Hopefully they are carnations. It is such a beautiful spring day. It's good I'm taking the chance to come outside: I have craved a moment to reflect on something beautiful.
more &