Cookies For Christmas

Today I am sharing something Kathleen posted recently about our Sunday school littles.  

Are you busy? I have been so busy this year! Does it make me feel accomplished? Not at all. It just makes me feel weary and tired.

That said, sometimes what I have been busy with is my littles at church. We have seen a lot of them in these last few weeks (more than normal) with extra activities and such. They have the opposite effect on me--they don't know about stress or weariness. They have no concept of the impact of all the politics and shut downs, caregiving woes, financial hardships. They just live in the moment.

This past Sunday we talked about Advent (like we do every week in December). We took them to see the lighting of the candles in "big church" where they wiggled and giggled and squirmed to the delight of most and the cringing of their parents. During the lighting of the Joy candle, the little next to me leaned in and very quietly asked "Ms Katleen, why do we always light candles in big church?"  I answered saying we do it to remember that we are getting ready to celebrate Jesus. We have the week of Hope, then Peace, and then Joy. Next week we have Love. That satisfied for the moment and the wriggling continued.

Shortly after big church, we were back in the classroom for story time. I reviewed our last two weeks--the prophecy telling of Jesus, the Angel talking to Joseph, and went directly into week three: the Angel telling Mary and Mary's announcement to Elizabeth.

There was so much wiggling and poking and giggling. I was quite certain no one was listening--like I wanted to throw in the story time towel and move into snack time. Giving it one last shot, I asked the same little who'd been next to me before in big church if they were listening to me at all. A confident "no" was the reply. Big sigh. I asked if they knew what the angel said. Reply: do not be scared, Mary was going to have a baby. I asked what did Mary do? Reply: she went to tell her cousin. I asked who was that? Reply: Elizabeth. She was having a baby, too. He was John. He jumped for joy in her tummy. Then the giggles and wiggles continued.

Find your hope, peace and joy wherever you can friends. I know where I find mine.

Under The Library Lamp

Have we reached the part of the holiday season where we are crossing items off our lists simply because we have run out of time to do them? Every single blessed year, I overplan, overschedule, and underestimate how long everything will take. Even when I tell myself I am aiming for a low-key approach, I manage to put far too much on my list. 

Do I have time to do 25 days of day drinking and crafting? Honestly? I started in October and I am still down to the wire on one last video. I had an entire year to write 25 Christmas blog entries, and somehow I am behind again. I was ahead for a while. I had entries prescheduled. And then suddenly… here we are.

In light of the limited time left in the holiday season, and the sheer number of activities still competing for space, I want to share one of my mom’s best pieces of holiday advice. Like many people, my mom was a list maker. Things to do. Things to get. Things to remember. At the end of every day, it mattered that you looked at the list and crossed items off.

Here is the secret, and the most important part of her system. Every day, you cross things off the list. Even if you did not accomplish the task. You make a decision. It is not getting done, and you cross it off anyway.

So far this holiday season, I have crossed off gifting all of the decorations from my day drinking and crafting videos to friends. I have crossed off multiple menu items, even though I really did want to eat them.

Crossing something off without doing it is not failure. It is an act of clarity. It is choosing what matters most with the time and energy you actually have, not the version of yourself you imagined back in October. The list does not get to decide your worth, and the holidays do not require completion to be meaningful. Sometimes the most generous thing we can do is let an item go, draw a line through it, and move on lighter than we were before.

Last-Minute Gifts for the Home Lover

Saturday was our annual Christmas party. As I mentioned, the menu was over the top. Far more food than was needed to feed the thirty or so attendees. I imagine we will be sharing leftovers with neighbors and friends for days to come.

A recurring joke in years past is whether or not I will remember the punch ladles. Once—once—when the party was held at the firefighters’ hall, I forgot them and had to run to a local store to buy something that would make do. Soup ladles. I did not forget them this year.

We did, however, encounter another small issue.

When we used to host the party at our house every year, these things never came up. But once we outgrew our home and moved the celebration elsewhere, the logistics of serving dishes, cups, glasses, and the like became more complicated. At home, we are well stocked. Party plates for a hundred guests, easily. Enough serving platters and bowls that I could triple the menu and still be fine. Wine glasses, punch cups, holiday-themed old-fashioned glasses, Christmas mugs—we are golden.

Serving utensils, however, are another matter.

At home, we simply default to extra forks or spoons from the silverware drawer. When you’re hosting at a venue that is not your own, that solution is not always available.

Several years ago, Kathleen purchased two sets of catering-style serving utensils specifically for parties. Last year, while washing and transporting dishes back to Matthew’s house, I noticed we seemed to be short on them, so I supplemented with extras from our own kitchen. Around that same time, Matthew had received a set of silverware as a gift from a young woman he was seeing, for his new house.

After last year’s party, all the plates, dishes, and assorted paraphernalia were packed into storage tubs and returned to our home, where they stayed. This year, I simply transported the tubs back to Matthew’s and washed everything for use at the party. I did notice, however, that there were no serving utensils beyond the aforementioned ladles. I picked up an assortment of plastic disposables during one of my errands.

I did not pick up enough.

As we were setting out the food, much to my embarrassment, people kept asking where the serving utensils were. Eventually, I had to rely on Matthew’s silverware. That was when I learned that when he and his lady friend ended their relationship, she took back the silverware she had given him. He has been making do with three place settings and a handful of larger spoons ever since.

So, regardless of whatever advice the December 1925 issue of Better Homes and Gardens offered for “Last-Minute Gifts for the Home Lover,” I believe the most appropriate gifts this year are clear: serving utensils for me, and a full set of silverware for Matthew.

The Cooks Round Table

Even the earliest editions of the Better Homes and Gardens included an article dedicated to sharing recipes, one homemaker to another.  While I’m refraining from sharing the recipe for batter fried celery from December 1925, let us ponder this instead.

What happens when you plan a menu?  I have shared before that our Christmas party menu is egregious in its excess.  There is Always way too much food.  Unnecessarily so.  Honestly, there really isn’t a good reason to be so over the top with it, but we are.  Kathleen had remarked recently that she had been asked if we go overboard on our party menu in order to “keep up with the Joneses?”  The truth is, there are no Joneses.  I don’t believe other people have parties like ours.  At least not ones that aren’t catered.  Or maybe they do, but we just don’t get invited to them?

This week is party prep week, and as Kathleen and I sat down to make the menu, her father asked what we were up to.  Kat said we were planning the menu, and I shared the oft repeated memory of when the boys were still in elementary school, saw the planned menu list, and added foods they thought we should have.  Paul added ham, because everyone loves ham, and Matthew added mozzarella, tomato, and basil appetizers because his gramma still had fresh basil growing on her basil plant.  Not the usual suggestions you would expect from children.

Then as Kathleen and I began making the list, her father was right there, making suggestions.  Have we ever served tortilla espanola at a Christmas party? No, not at a Christmas party, but plenty of other parties.  When was the last time we had little smokies?  Good question, it’s been a few years.  Deviled eggs were discussed.  When we got to the sweets, he was as eager as the boys had been, offering suggestions and alternatives.  He even tried to recall the secret family fudge recipe from memory to see if he could.  

He wasn’t the only one adding new things to the menu.  I managed to get a dirty martini dip on the list, and a marinated charcuterie I have been trying to get on the menu for a year or two.  Kathleen made some serious restrictions on the candy making, but, and also, yet, still… we will have to see if she can maintain her self control when she is actually in the kitchen making the candy.  

Kathleen has shared before that it never feels like Christmas to her, until we are in the middle of party preparation.  That for her, and for the rest of our family, this is our way of sharing our love with our friends and extended family.  So yes, the menu is too much, way, way too much, but it brings us holiday joy.

Dad's Practical Pointers

In preparation for this article, I spent some time thinking about the things I have taught my sons, both intentionally and by accident. After working up the courage, I asked them for their thoughts. Surprisingly, they were both eager to share.

Matthew told me that I taught him how to change a tire. He remembers it vividly. I was taking him to soccer practice while we were living in Denver when we had a blowout. I was dressed in work clothes with dress shoes, and we were already running late. He recalls that I stayed calm and matter-of-fact, showing him what to do as we went along. He added that every time he has had to change a tire since, he thinks of that day.

When it came to life lessons, Matthew said that he works hard at his jobs and performs well in stressful situations, something he believes he learned from watching me. He remembers spending weekends with me in my office after his soccer games were over, “helping out” while I worked. Matthew credits his commitment to hard work and his ability to stay calm under pressure to those moments. High praise.

Paul had a different answer. He recalled that I taught him how to tie his shoes, a practical lesson by any measure. When I asked about life lessons, Paul said that I taught him that we always do what has to be done, and that we can do hard things. Those phrases are throwbacks to 2011, when I was traveling often for work and away from home more than I wanted to be. Matthew would repeat them like a mantra during the times he struggled with my absence. Paul said those lessons mattered then, and that they still matter now. As an adult, he finds himself returning to them when things feel difficult.

What strikes me most is that the lessons my sons remember are not the ones I carefully planned or consciously tried to teach. They are the ones learned in the middle of ordinary moments, stressful days, and imperfect circumstances. A flat tire. Tying shoes. Showing up and doing the work. If there is any comfort in parenting, perhaps it is this. Even when we are unsure of ourselves, even when we are simply doing what has to be done, something good may still be taking root.

The End Is Not Yet

The editor of the December issue of Better Homes and Gardens penned a short piece titled The End Is Not Yet. I suspect the lingering memories of the First World War contributed to the somber undertone of the article. Despite the cheerful merriment of the season, the editor observed that the specter of war continued to loom over humanity, as it always had. Homemakers were urged to set their heads and hearts to “the outlawry of war,” and encouraged to make the Christmas spirit a living and active reality.

A century later, the sentiment feels just as timely. Across the globe there is war. There is strife. There is death. In recent days, acts of violence in public places, in communities both far away and close to home, have taken innocent lives. I want to say something profound, something deeply moving in the face of such loss during the holiday season. I want to, but I have nothing. People should not be gunned down during the holidays. The truth, of course, is that they should not be gunned down at any time of year.

I heard a sermon last year about Jesus being called the Prince of Peace and how that title does not promise an end to conflict or suffering. Arguments were made and perhaps they were sound?  I am not a biblical scholar. What do I know? Only this. Human life should be regarded as so precious that no one would ever consider committing such acts. And yet it is not. I do not know how to change that.

Homes of Famous Americans

A recurring feature in the early editions of Better Homes and Gardens was a spotlight on the homes of Famous Americans. The series was intended to highlight the architecture and landscape features of notable historic homes. My first instinct was to offer a similar exploration of a famous American’s house, until I realized I don’t know any local famous Americans well enough to request a tour of their living rooms.

Instead, I’m sharing a home I know very well: the home of my in-laws, Nolen and Elisa Dunaway. Built in 1929 and purchased by them in 2003, the house is more than 1700 sq ft, two stories and retains many Craftsman-style features that have endured for nearly a century.

In the front room, a stone-and-plaster fireplace anchors the space. Though now purely decorative, its primary purpose is to display a large photograph of Nolen and Elisa’s grandchildren, taken in 2004. French doors separate the entryway from the living room, and observant visitors may notice a hook-and-eye latch installed near the top. Family lore holds that Nolen and Elisa added it to keep little Matthew safely inside.

The staircase is carpeted, and both boys remember being instructed to sit and scoot up and down the steps when they were young. Their tendency to rush resulted in one too many trips and falls. When Paul turned ten, he grew tall enough that he had to duck his head while climbing the stairs. Matthew teased him mercilessly—until, a few years later, he reached the same milestone himself.

Upstairs, the bathroom features a large claw-foot tub. It is neither especially convenient nor likely original, but I am grateful for the countless times it was used to bathe my sons. Also upstairs is the “blue bedroom”; a room that is not blue, and does not have any visible blue features.  Built-in bookshelves in that room house the complete works of Charles Dickens, alongside a a once-beloved children book.  This forgotten favorite of the grandchildren may be waiting for the next generation of little readers.

This home may not be famous for its architecture alone, nor for the people who live within it. It is beloved because it has been filled with love for the past 22 years and, with any luck, will continue to be for many years to come.

Christmas Wreaths of Native Materials

The December 1925 issue of Better Homes and Gardens included an article encouraging homemakers to construct their own Christmas wreaths using materials native to the areas in which they lived. Sensible advice for a live wreath expected to last the season—and perhaps even more fitting for a time when instructions on foraging felt far less suspect. Foraging in 2025 is more likely to earn you concerned looks from neighbors, if not a visit from law enforcement.

I did briefly consider making a wreath from the dried sunflower heads still lingering in our flower beds a few weeks ago. Unfortunately, it rained, they became soggy, and I simply could not bring myself to imagine a wet, pulpy wreath hanging on the door.

As I pondered alternatives, it occurred to me that the broader advice still holds. Exotic plants that don’t grow naturally in your area are harder to find and less likely to withstand the season. Much like friendships. We all have wonderful friends and family who live far away and whom we’d love to gather close during the holidays—but is that practical? Is it sustainable, year after year? Hard to say. Local friends, on the other hand, tend to be more readily available and better suited to weather daily life alongside us.

Then there is the idea of binding. Certainly, fancy ribbon or tinsel makes for a pretty wreath, but will it survive a storm? There is an obvious joke here about binding your friends with wire or zip ties, but I’ll move past it. Instead, perhaps the better binding is goodwill—shared memories, generosity, and laughter.

The article concludes with suggestions for keeping your wreath fresh and “evergreen.” While I might enjoy the idea of spritzing some of my friends with water to freshen them up after a few weeks, that seems ill-advised. Still, there may be something to be said for checking in on them periodically, just to make sure they’re doing alright.

How to Carve the Holiday Meats.

Holiday meats. Read that again. And Again. After a few times, it just sounds so very strange. Slow it down in your head Hollllllllllidaaaaaaaaaaay Meeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaattttsssssssssss.  Kinda makes me want to be a vegetarian.

Where was I going with this?  One of the articles of the 1925 BHG was titled how to carve the dinner meats and shows a photographic set of step by step instructions on meat carving.  Instructions for crown roast of lamb, prime rib, baked ham, pot roast, and chicken, turkey, duck, and goose are all provided.  

So many questions: Do people still do crown roast? Do people have prime rib for Christmas? Lastly, when you carve your turkey for the holidays how do you do it?

When I learned to carve a turkey, (from my Dad circa 1989), I learned to start with the breast and do thin diagonal slices across the breast meat over and over until you are up against the bone.  I thought this was how everyone sliced turkey, until Kat demonstrated her method which is to slice the entire breast off in one piece, place it on a cutting board and then carve that piece into smaller cross pieces.  

I tried to show my sons the way I was taught, but I’ll give you 3 guesses which way they do it.  The first two guesses don’t count.  But now I have the expert instructions of the BHG 1925 christmas edition to tell everyone that I Was Right.

Now that will put marzipan in your pie plate bingo.

I Want to Build a Home: Christmas from 100 years ago.

Have you ever wondered where the idea of a “traditional American Christmas” actually comes from? If our society is built on people immigrating from around the world and blending cultures together, shouldn’t our Christmas traditions reflect elements of the “old country”? For instance, if your family originally came from Mexico, or Greece, shouldn’t there naturally be bits of a Mexican Christmas or a Greek Christmas mixed in? But oddly… no.

For over a century, homemaking and lifestyle magazines have carefully crafted and curated the concept of the “traditional American Christmas.” It’s subtle, insidious, and absolutely rooted in consumerism.

Originally, Christmas traditions came with colonizers who simply recreated what they were used to back home. As the country grew, those colonizers clung tightly to their traditions while simultaneously oppressing and eradicating Indigenous peoples. Truly, they were multitaskers—but I digress.

Better Homes and Gardens, the flagship homemaking magazine began in 1922 as Fruit, Garden & Home before rebranding into the BHG we know. By 1925, they were already positioning themselves as arbiters of the “proper” American holiday. But what drove this communal compulsion to conform?

Based on some amateur internet sleuthing, I have a theory. History tells us the Great Depression ended when the U.S. entered WWII and wartime manufacturing jump started the economy (yes, wildly oversimplified). After the war, I believe the national sense of unity—“we all came together to defeat the bad guys”—combined with renewed economic stability helped fuel a desire for a homogenized holiday. A darker version of this theory is that fear of being labeled “different” or “un-American” also nudged people toward sameness.

And so, the traditional American Christmas was born—constructed, marketed, and sold. While I fully recognize that I’ve been influenced by it, and that my own traditions influence others, I’m struck by how intentionally this aesthetic was crafted. It didn’t evolve naturally. It was curated and promoted by the people selling magazines and, by extension, selling the idea of the ideal American dream.

I suspect this is one reason I’m so fascinated by how other cultures around the world celebrate Christmas. It’s also probably why I consume holiday lifestyle magazines at what could reasonably be called an unhealthy rate. The whole phenomenon is endlessly interesting to me.

All of this explains why I’m diving into the December 1925 issue of BHG: because even 100 years ago, the groundwork was already in place. I often applaud Martha Stewart for creating a market for her signature home goods by showcasing them in her magazines—but that strategy is far from new. In 1925, BHG was recommending popular gift ideas on the same pages where ads for those exact gifts were printed. Truly, nothing new under the sun.

The entirety of Better Homes and Gardens is available online, and I have spent a good deal of time focused on the 1925 Christmas edition.  What did Christmas look like 100 years ago?  What were the trends?  What has changed and what has stayed the same?  For the rest of my 25 days, I invite you to join me as I explore those 1925 articles and share my thoughts along the way.

This Will Be Our Year

This will be our year?

2025 has been a long year.  I have vague memories of new year's resolutions and goals I set for myself, but then… Look, this year has been challenging.  I had a steroid shot in my spine way back in January to correct some ongoing back pain.  My mother-in-law broke her ankle in February, Paul re-tore his previously repaired ACL in March, and had it replaced in April, followed by months of rehab.  I managed to re-injure my back, and my  doc implied I was an idiot.  Actually, what he said was “you are aware that the shot in January did not make you superman?” Matthew changed jobs twice.  The governor ordered all state employees working from home to return to the office.  That part wouldn't have been so terrible for Kathleen, except the number of state dhs employees outnumbers the number of seats in the sequoyah building by a few thousand. Friends and loved ones have had their own share of challenges this year as well.

Early in 2024 I went to a vision board party at my friend Erika’s.  I’ll drop a picture of my vision board here.   

When I got home, I set it on the bed to take a picture, and Shadoe kitty promptly attacked it, scratching it, pulling away paper with his teeth.  I should have taken that as a sign.  I’m trying to manifest for this year, and Shadoe kitty says, “sorry, the universe says NO.”

 

Spoiler alert:  We lived through it.  We survived.  I am not saying everything is all better because every day seems to have a new set of challenges. Yet, here we are.  I could say that our faith has helped, and talk about the power of prayer. (Yes I am mentioning prayer a few sentences after mentioning manifesting, just move on).  However if I start down that path, we get into my complicated relationship with prayer, which inevitably leads to a discussion of calvinism, then we are dipping our toes in fatalistic predestination. 

What is my point?  It may be a cold December, but it IS December, and in a few short weeks, this mess of a year will be done, and over.  2026 will be here soon and with it, another 12 months of opportunity.  Maybe part of the charm of this season is the promise of renewal is just around the corner?  December holds the shortest day, the most darkness of the year, but it is also the turning point, after that, the nights start getting shorter and the days get longer and pretty soon it is spring.  

So even though this year has been dark, I am forever hopeful that next year will be better.

Put a Little Holiday in your Heart

Have you  noticed a theme in the titles of the daily entries this year?  I am using the song title play list from Cher’s 2023 Christmas album.  For the last 2 years it has been my personal holiday soundtrack.  I am enamored of the combination of holiday classics and pop themed music like the popular DJ play a Christmas song, Angels in the Snow, and the title for today's entry “put a little holiday in your heart” - a duet sung with Cyndi Lauper.  The song serves as a catchy reminder during a busy time of year, when it is all too easy to get bogged down in the “to do list” of the season.

It is an annual argument at our house that I am “rushing the season” and that christmas talk before halloween is forbidden.  Certainly, I understand the point other people are making, and at the same time, as in the previous years, I am ignoring them. I admit, I go overboard, but I am not forcing anyone else to.  Mostly. 

I shared about Matthew and the lemon curd dutch baby holiday approach?  In the past I have shared that I am capable of dragging my family kicking and screaming through the holiday season with tinsel and matching pajamas, fuelled by egg nog and sugar cookies.  I can do it, but it is heavy lifting some years.  This year I am considering an alternate version of what is going on over here.  Maybe I am not trying to rush the season, or force joy and merriment on my family?  What if I am just trying to set the mood?

There are some painfully sad memories for my family in the months leading up to and during the Christmas season.  It is important to recognize that and honor the feelings that come with that.  My mom always said, when you are thirsty, have a drink of water.  AND, also, yet, however, still… for my immediate family it is sometimes challenging to open the door for the possibility of Christmas joy when you are experiencing sadness. Certainly, we aren’t alone.

I think sometimes, as adults, it is easy to get caught up in the regular life stuff.  Aren’t we already too busy on the day to day in a normal month?  So when December rolls around with parties, extra special church services, gift giving, decoration necessities and family expectations it certainly feels overwhelming.  I absolutely feel overwhelmed.  

This year, however, instead of dragging the family through the festivities and hoping something sticks, I am merely setting the mood.  Yes, I do play Christmas music in my car.  I’ll turn it down, and stop singing to you, but I’m not turning it off, I am setting the mood.  Yes, we are watching inane holiday rom-coms on tv at night, its background filler, because I am setting the mood.  Yes, as we prepare for our party, decorations have slowly been making an appearance at Matthew’s house.  I am not rushing the season, I am setting the mood.  Think of it as an invitation rather than an obligation.

I fully admit, I pulled the tree out of Matthew’s garage and set it up in his living room before November was over.  I am not rushing the season on him, I just needed it to stage the ornaments I have been crafting for the 25 days of day drinking and crafting videos.  I will get around to really decorating it soon.  I set it up, and I tested the lights, then I unplugged them when I was done.  I can not be held responsible if someone else turns them on and leaves them on in the background when he is home. We are just setting the mood. 

Santa Baby

Since we are reminiscing (back on the 4th) about inappropriate attire… Every December it is our custom to take the sunday school littles to “big church” at the beginning of the service for the lighting of the advent candles, and to hear/sing a few christmas hymns.  Then when the talking begins, we scurry back to our Sunday school class.  Last year, the children’s choir was also going to sing on one of those Sunday mornings.

Somehow a communication mishap occurred and one of the parents missed the memo that their daughter would be singing in big church.  Said daughter was also blithely unaware and dressed herself in a princess dress that morning.  Princess dresses are very popular with the pre-K crowd.  And for clarity, I don’t mean a dress that is reminiscent of a princess dress, I mean a dress that is an exact replica of the disney princess de jour.  All of the other children showed up in Christmas finery.  To stave off the meltdown, I offered up the solution that we do have children's choir robes, and that would be adorable.  However, apparently some people are really opposed to choir robes.  

The father of the daughter wearing the princess dress drove home and secured a change of clothes.  When he returned with a cute christmas outfit, you would think everything would be better.  You would be wrong.  The poor dad chose an outfit with a sequined llama wearing Christmas lights for his daughter.  What was wrong with that outfit?  His very serious princess daughter said that was too silly of an outfit to wear in BIG CHURCH to sing in front of everyone.  How could she be expected to sing about Jesus with a llama on her shirt and sequins?  By this time, church had already started and our class of littles was sitting on the front row.

I am not naming names, or casting aspersions, but children of a certain generation are aware that at this point, another generation of choir leaders, sunday school teachers, grandmothers, or parents might have resorted to that “that look” and a stern warning.  Javi’s own sainted mother might have kicked a child in her pointed stiletto heels. #allegedly

But that was a different generation.  As Matthew’s father I understood the whole “this is not serious enough for church” thinking.  He told the children’s minister in Colorado that their Sunday school didn’t meet his spiritual needs so he would just go to big church with the grown ups. So, I am familiar with that way of thinking.  

Ms. Kathleen took a different approach, she pulled the little princess under her arm and while we sat on the front row, she whispered how much she liked the Christmas llama top, and showed off the sequins on her own shirt.  She also pointed out the sequins on some of the other little girls outfits.  Tears stopped, everyone calmed down. And when it was time, the serious princess in the llama shirt got up and sang beautifully with the rest of the children's choir.

Ms. Kathleen is 100% a boy mom.  There is no denying that.  However, and, yet, still… I sometimes forget that she has also been a girl aunt for a very long time.  So maybe that was not Ms. Kathleen the Sunday school teacher, but Aunt Kathleen that stepped up and saved Christmas that time.

judgey disco llama

Christmas ain't Christmas

The return of the silver punchbowl.

Years ago I shared my famous eggnog recipe, which referenced the silver punch bowl that I bought on ebay.  Before that, way back in 1991 Kathleen and I purchased a cut glass punch bowl from Walmart for $5? to for our christmas sangria party that year.  We used it later for countless parties, school receptions, and of course our Christmas party.  Then in 1995? Wasn’t it? That my brother-in-law’s mother Dorothy gave us a second glass punch bowl with roses on it.  Then we created the cranberry orange punch to serve in one punch bowl for the folks who did not love egg nog, which was in the other punch bowl.  

In 2002, or 2003? The original punch bowl cracked down the middle and split in half. Luckily that year it was sitting on top of the buffet filled with christmas balls, because I had purchased the silver punch bowl off ebay.  

In 2011 we moved to Colorado, and both punch bowls survived the journey.  In 2012 when we held the party back in Oklahoma city we took the silver punch bowl, and borrowed a punch bowl from Kristi Swinney.  2013, the silver punch bowl was back in place for our last colorado christmas party.  In 2014 when we were getting ready for our party I found the rose punch bowl but could not find the silver punch bowl.  We had left a multitude of boxes in a storage unit in Colorado, so I thought I’d left it there.  At the last minute, we borrowed Kristi Swinney’s punch bowl again.  In 2015 we made a trip to Colorado and brought home ⅓ of the boxes, including, I thought, the elusive silver punch bowl.  

rose punchbowl 

Here is the absolute truth.  I saw the silver punch bowl, I DID put it in a box, (we were consolidating), and put it in our SUV.  Any box labeled Silver came with us, because I knew Christmas party 2015 would be our 25th party and I planned to lean in on the silver decor.  When we got home and put the boxes away, I could not for the life of me find the silver punch bowl.  I convinced myself I must have left it in the storage in Colorado.  When we finally brought home the Colorado storage unit items, I was sure I would find it.  But alas I did not.

silver party decor, but not a punch bowl

Since then, I have opened every single box labeled kitchen, or dishes, and of course silver. Still no silver punch bowl.  I have alternated between believing that our friends the Powells, who accompanied us on the trip in 2015, had stolen it, and suspecting that I had accidentally donated that box with other items we chose to leave in Colorado.  

Gramma Lucy's punch bowl

A few years ago, my former step-mom and mother to my siblings passed on her family's giant punch bowl.  A generous gift that I suspect was ultimately because no one else wanted it.  We have used that bowl, our rose bowl, and Kristi Swinney’s bowl (that I still have custody of) in regular rotation, every Christmas. 

Kristi Swinney's punch bowl

In October, while looking for a photo album in my boxes in my in-laws garage I opened a box labeled books and discovered the missing silver punch bowl!  I also found a ceramic christmas bowl (one of 3 that Kat asks about every year), and crystal dessert bowl (1 of 6 that I noticed was missing christmas 2022).  It was a Christmas Miracle!

When I shared with my friends Javi and Jodi that I had found the silver punch bowl in a box labeled books, Jodi suggested I should have looked there first, remembering the search for our dinner plates in the great unpacking of 2016.  11 boxes labeled plates and not a single regular stoneware, microwave, dishwasher safe dinner plate.  Every single blessed china plate, party plate, glass plate (not microwave safe) anyone could ever want, but no dinner plates.  When we finally found the plates? In a box labeled FRAGILE Books in Matthew’s handwriting. 

So be on the lookout for the christmas surprise silver punchbowl at this year’s party!

Merry ho ho ho.

Don't judge me!

I like Christmas

What does your holiday decorating look like?

not this year's decorations

I spend an unhealthy amount of time on the Christmas side of instagram, watching perfectly lit and stage reels showing off their creators' versions of perfect holiday decor.  Spend more than a few minutes there and you will learn that this year the Ralph Lauren Christmas is trending, along with velvet bows, and the viral velvet christmas chain.  

I absolutely admit that I am struggling with the velvet christmas chain because I could do that! Easily! I don’t think it is just the “how hard can that be?” voice in my head telling me that, I really think I could do it.  The caveat, and I think the point of all of it, is that I don’t have the right velvet ribbon, so I would have to buy some.  If I was planning on a cream and navy and silver and gold Christmas I could, I have navy with silver velvet ribbon, and I have cream with gold, but then I'd have to change something else I planned… Plus I am really trying to talk myself out of the new soft touch christmas greenery garland, which I absolutely do not need.

Even the creators advocating for a DIY, “use what you have” aesthetic are showcasing carefully curated dried orange slices and cinnamon sticks, tied with hand braided twine, and foraged evergreen branches and handmade artisanal candles.  They use gorgeous knives to slice the oranges atop thick wood cutting boards that have been oiled with magic holiday essence ethically harvested by a local fairy co-op.  The scissors they use to cut the twine are hand crafted by local dwarves who devote the proceeds to feed unicorns and butterflies.  

I get it, the point of instagram is winning all the views so you show off a carefully curated narrative and show off gorgeous pictures to do that.  I work in social media, I know that.  I chase views on my personal instagram with the ridiculous glue peel reels that are loved by strangers. Thousands of strangers.  

But please, someone, show me a mismatched christmas tree? A homemade garland made of whatever tied together with a shoelace because you can’t even find string? I could forage items from my yard to make a garland but mostly dead leaves and dried sunflower stalks do not a beautiful garland make.  When I get ready to show off my holiday decor, I am going to stage things so you don’t see the boxes on the dining room table because there isn't room in the pantry, and the cat’s cardboard scratching toys that in the fireplace, beneath the beautifully decorated mantle. Just please know, that the vision I am showing off? It is not real, at least it is not really the whole story.

This year, like last year, our Christmas party will be at Matthew’s house, and he is letting me help take over his Christmas decorating this year.  I mean he could decorate and it would be a combination of penguin christmas, and a 9 ladies dancing christmas tree, and a mini silver tinsel tree.  Not that there is anything wrong with that.  However, also, still, I did just spend 25 days of day drinking and crafting and those crafts do need to be shown off. Somehow.  

I am not offering a solution to this problem, just pointing it out, and admitting my part in the silliness. So when you get the christmas guilt of comparing your real life to the picture perfect curated ones you see online, please remember, it is not real.  Please don’t judge your life against someone else's made up image of a perfect life?

Deck those halls, y'all.

Please Come Home for Christmas

How do you like your eggs deviled?

I have written, probably since the very first year, that deviled eggs are an important part of the holiday season for my sons.  All the way back to 2001 when 3 year old Paul traded his pumpkin pie for more deviled eggs after his preschool teacher he couldn't have any more. I’ve mentioned the boys' deeply philosophical discussion in grade school about the importance of deviled eggs in every major holiday except halloween, the one you would think a deviled themed snack would be welcomed.  I’ve shared all the variations of deviled eggs the boys have made over the years; from Paul’s spicy sriracha deviled eggs, to Matthew’s counterpoint “heavenly” deviled eggs that relied heavily on mayonnaise, a touch of mustard and sweet pickle relish, plus everyone is a fan of Sandy Feree’s bacon jalapeno deviled eggs.  I am certain I have mentioned over the years the almost relic-like status their grandmother Elisa’s deviled egg platter has for them.  If those holiday deviled eggs aren’t served on grammas egg platter, is it really a holiday?

In 2011, when we were living in Colorado, my family came for the holidays.  We have dishes aplenty to serve a huge crowd, and I had unboxed all the china just for the event.  The one thing we did not own, however, was a deviled egg platter.  I guess before my in-laws moved to Oklahoma in 2003 when we entertained for the holidays we served deviled eggs on a regular plate?  

Matthew had pointed out several times that we probably just needed gramma to come and bring her egg plate so we could he ok to celebrate the holiday with my family.  Paul problem solved the situation and suggested we could just serve the eggs in our pink and green tupperware deviled eggs trays that we use to store and transport them in.  Matthew quickly vetoed that suggestion, because if you are using fancy china plates, clearly you can’t serve food from tupperware.

I remedied the situation and bought one off of ebay.  A very pretty cobalt blue glass deviled egg plate that coordinates with our cobalt blue drinking glasses.  I figured that would end the discussion.  I should have known better.  Paul agreed the egg plate was pretty, but if we were going to be fancy, I should have got a nice one, like grammas.  Matthew was horrified.  Who even has a blue deviled egg tray?  Everyone knows a deviled egg tray is just fancy clear glass and crystal like his grammas.  He suggested people would probably get indigestion from deviled eggs served on a blue egg plate.  Honestly? 2011 may be the one and only year we ever used the blue egg plate.  

Now that we are living safely back in Oklahoma where my sons can eat their holiday deviled eggs off gramma’s egg plate, it has not been an issue.  Flash forward to a couple of months ago, I saw on facebook that our friend Jessica had thrifted an egg plate, Exactly like the one my mother in law has. EXACTLY.  So I sent a picture to the boys and asked if they thought we should get another one.  They responded in minutes with a resounding YES.  So a huge thank you to Jessica for facilitating that acquisition.  All future holidays are saved!

Now the only question is, did we make enough deviled eggs?

Drop Top Sleigh Ride

The return of the mutant tree!  The very first entry I wrote for my christmas blog is the story of the year my Mom decided to forgo spending money on a christmas tree, opting to donate the money to a good cause.  Instead of the tree, she obtained fresh pine branches from a friend who had recently trimmed a giant tree in their yard.  She then assembled said branches in a large tub and we decorated that.  As evidenced below.

If you have read the original tale, you know that the year of the mutant tree is also the year Jennifer and I both brought home our classroom trees. You will also know the way Karma paid me back when Paul was in T-1 at Hawthorne Elementary. In searching for the elusive photo of the mutant tree I also discovered these.

All of this photographic Christmas nostalgia? Cringe? Cheer? Inspired an idea for Jennifer’s Bakery this holiday season.  Last year we asked customers and online fans to send in pictures of themselves performing in the nutcracker and literally covered her bakery in the images as a celebration of all the dancers who have ever performed in the nutcracker, regardless of if they went on to become a professional dancer or not.

This year? We are providing the opportunity for people to share their old christmas photos; whether they are awkwardly posing in front of the family christmas tree, or posed professionally.  I am absolutely in love with the results.  I am extending the offer to share that joy with my readers.  If it is December 2025 (even if it is after, to be honest) and you want in on the fun, please email me your best nostalgic christmas pictures (limit 3) to judson@dedicatedgf.com and they will get shared on the dedicatedgf instagram and facebook pages, and copies will be displayed in the lobby. I promise to protect your identity, if necessary.  I can not wait to see your merry christmas pictures.

Home

I have shared before that there is a point in every child's life when the melancholy creeps into the holiday season.   I shared what my good friend Daryl wrote about it in his blog here.  I know with my own sons that the line of demarcation involved grief and loss.  Unfortunately, that is often a struggle most people share during the holiday season.

My tradition of the Say their names post is partly to offset a little of that holiday grief, by remembering friends and family members who are gone.  I had a recent conversation with my sister Jennifer on this topic.  For years, her children’s tradition was for each of them to decorate their own bedrooms for Christmas, borrowing heavily from the family Christmas supply, while cultivating their own supply of holiday decorations over the years. Then on Christmas day Grampa Jerry would pick the winner, usually a 3 way tie.

In 2020, Jennifer’s oldest, age 16 at the time, opted to not decorate.  This caused Jen’s middle child to only make a half-hearted effort in her room.  Her youngest, still only 10, went all in as usual.  Since then, Jen’s youngest is still always all in on the decorating tradition, while the others have eased out.  Naomi, Jen’s middle child certainly gets a pass, as in recent years her holidays have been all about dancing in the Tucson Ballet’s production of Nutcracker.  In 2022 and 2023 she danced the role of Clara, and remains of the more popular Claras in recent years. Even though she danced in Phoenix last year, Ballet Tucson used giant sized posters of her as Clara all over town.

Last year, living in Phoenix, Naomi decorated her small apartment, and every year her collection of nutcrackers are always out at Jen’s home, or her bakery.  When it was time for Jennifer and Christian to decorate, Jennifer had pulled a muscle in her back that morning at work and wasn’t feeling up to dragging all the decorations in.  Christian told her not to worry, he would handle it.  While Jen rested on, my amazing nephew dragged all the decoration boxes into the house, put up the tree and decorated for the family. 

This year?  Jen attended big foodie event work on a Friday in early November and came home late to find Christian had decorated the entire house.  He put up and decorated the tree.  He decorated the table in the entry way.  He decorated the table they use as a hot cocoa and sweet treat station.  He decorated his own room, (although to be honest, his room stays christmas decorated most of the time).  He also found his older brother's Christmas decoration box and decorated Keenan’s room, in anticipation of his return home from college.  He set up and decorated Naomi’s tree from her apartment, and put up her bedroom decorations.  

What a Christmas surprise when Jen got home!  Christian couldn’t find the nutcrackers, but once Jen told him where they were, he got them out and put them up as well.  When Jen told me the story I made the comment that apparently, Christian hasn’t hit that line of demarcation yet.  Jennifer said that for Christian, he just LOVES the holidays.  Any holiday is an opportunity to spend time with his family, and he absolutely relishes every part of that, from the planning to the executing, and then actively enjoys the actual participation in the celebration.  I just love that nugget so very much.

Jennifer’s children’s last name is Johnson, but their entire lives, my son’s have said their cousins are 100% Kinkades because of all the similarities they share, and as a fierce declaration of how much they love them.  I have to agree that 100% Christian’s love of Christmas and joy of celebrating, certainly feels familiar.

Angels in the Snow

Say their names.

Every year we suffer losses, and every year I think perhaps I'll be better prepared to weather the losses. And, yet here we are with a familiar Christmas shaped feeling of loss.  Certainly I may not be the person most affected by their absence,but I do appreciate the fact that they are gone, and I miss their presence, maybe the most when it's Christmas and I know their loved ones miss them deeply.

So here is my annual attempt to remember those we've lost by remembering them and saying their names.

Kevin Hoover

Leonard Atchley

Ann Nichols

Taylor Hendrickson

Rochelle Maxwell Hidalgo

Bill Hill

Ralph Unzicker

Dan Rupp

David Silva

Karen Cotter Wood

Dale Roberts

Jeffery Thibadoux

Allen Miller

Linda Hicks

Kari Adair

Joyce Keith

Cody Ferguson

Julia Beth Hankins

Betsy Hosley Kirk

Michael Paske

Jim Myles

Pam Barnett

Wylson Dainkau

Gary James

Becky Fox-Akins

Patrick Vaught

Jay Kopp

Chris Young

Karen Hylton

Ann Hankins

Stephanie Dunaway Forrest

Amanda Rohn

Chris Kinkade

Tara Stiner

Jane Rogers Meeks

Geraldine Black

Roy Casares

Nancy Casares

Mike Sutton

Courtney Owens Bond

Barry Hollis

James Swedberg

Donna Keyes

Cindy Stuart

Larry Roberts

Fred Kinkade

Dorothy Kinkade

Archie Horton

Alice Horton

Jan Kinkade

Vera Sotelo

Danny Sotelo

Fausto Sotelo

Max Cook

Charles Eldon Cook

Run Rudolph Run

In my lifetime I have owned sweaters people thought were ugly.  I have owned sweaters for Christmas, but I have never owned an “ugly Christmas sweater”.  In December 2023 I had just started working in a call center (again), and they had an “ugly christmas sweater” day.  My training class had dwindled down to 4 of us.  The trainer suggested we could (read that as SHOULD) demonstrate our team unity and commitment to corporate culture by participating.  If you know me, you know that is really not my style.  Plus, I don’t trust that everyone else will participate, and the very last thing I want is to stand out for looking ridiculous.  However I allowed myself to be persuaded to participate in ugly sweater day at work, against my better judgment.  As the token male member of the class, I was going to wear a Santa-esque sweater and the other class members would all wear reindeer inspired sweaters.  The big day was scheduled for the first Monday back after Thanksgiving break.  Someone in the class even passed out reminder notes not to forget.

All my fears were confirmed when I arrived at work that fateful Monday  wearing a newly acquired ugly Christmas sweater to discover the others in my group “forgot” and I am the only one in the room wearing a Santa rejected sweater. This is absolutely 100% the reason I don’t participate in things. I was determined to dash home at lunch and change, but my new supervisor persuaded me not to so that I could get my picture taken and emailed in with everyone else for a chance to win the random drawing prize.  After lunch I posed for the picture and they emailed me a copy so I could send it to corporate.

Then I discovered that as a new hire, my email was restricted to internal emails only, meaning just on the call center floor.  No way to send the email to corporate, as they were in another building, across town.  I told them I was feeling like I was being singled out.  They assured me I was not.

At the end of the day, as I was taking my last break, one of my coworkers on another team asked to take a picture with me because of a scavenger hunt where they are required to take a picture with Santa.  I posed for the picture, but honestly, is that an HR offense?  Seems like I should have filed a grievance.  They all definitely made my naughty list that year.

Christmas (baby please come home)

Hey, what happened the last couple of years?  Great question.  The answer is…nuanced.  To blog in December is not always an easy task.  It always seems as though the time I take to do it means I am taking time away from something else, something more important.  Maybe not more important to me, but more important to…others. 

The first few years I blogged at work, when I was working as a minor cog in the wheel of capitalism. No one noticed if I spent 20-40 minutes over the course of a day spalling sentences together to make a blog entry.  But then came promotion and more responsibility, and the feeling that  was being watched and monitored constantly.  Certainly, I was not being paid to blog, until I was, but not about Christmas, but I digress.  I am cognizant of the fact that it was not an appropriate use of company time.  Then company time became all I had, and then I still managed to do it.

Then 2023 came, and I got 2 entries in, and one of them was really good (gift of the magi) and then… I stopped. And no one noticed. Or no one said anything.  And the intrusive voices in my head said, no one cares… it is basically a cry for attention anyway… real men have better things to do… Kathleen has to do Everything and you just type lame stuff in a blog no one reads… Every year you fall short of 25 anyway… Honestly, you are bad at this… and on and on. So I didn’t finish.  No one even noticed. At least no one said anything.

Last year, December 1 came and went. I didn't start and then it felt too late and again, no one noticed. Why does it matter anyway?  I thought maybe like most online blogs it just died a silent death.

Fast forward to this summer, my son Paul and I were having a conversation about the day drinking and crafting videos.  I shared some of the intrusive thoughts that had shut that project down as well.  I said, “No one cares anyway,” and it just gives a desperate “I’ll do anything for attention” vibe.  Paul said, “Pop, that's the point, you are doing it for attention, and you don’t care what people think.  That is the whole point of all of it!” 

So here we are.  If nothing else, someday, years from now, these silly words will remain for my boys to read.