The post-Christmas hangover is non-existent this year, a casualty of the pandemic dearth of social calls that Christmas brings and the obligatory wine consumption that follows. There are blessings to be uncovered even as we mourn the traditions we dare not exercise.
On the whole, it was a low-key but satisfying holiday. The children thoroughly enjoyed Santa Mary Gail’s gifting – everyone is now sporting new duds and extra cash in their wallets. The feast was eclectic but delicious: partridge and pheasant braised in wine, crispy-skinned roast duck, traditional pork with celery and leeks in avgolemono. Roasted green beans, cauliflower and potatoes rounded out the protein offerings. I make an effort to not acknowledge my culinary gifts, but in this case, I believe I outdid even myself. There is nothing I love more than a meal well prepared and its culmination in adoration of my talent in the kitchen.
The goodies baked a few days ago have mostly made their way to my waistline, despite all my efforts to the contrary. I console myself with the knowledge that at least my sugar and carb consumption is less than in years past, and though tight, the smaller sizes still zip. That, and the impending adherence to a strict calorie-reduction effort until I feel better in my pants again. One of the kids asked the other day, “are there any REAL cookies?” Poor kid, all he has are the tins of chocolates and the entire container of real cookies he inhaled last week. And bacon, which I am asked to make on a daily basis. His sister worries about his cholesterol levels.
This Christmas, we were able to pretend there is no pandemic raging across our country, that we are not held hostage by the most criminal of administrations in recent history, that an entire political party has traded any principles it may have had for fealty to the criminal enterprise, for a day or two.
We were able to, for a day or two, find our commonality and affection, and let go of whatever hurts and slights we were holding on to in the spirit of the season. With any luck, the letting go of those things will be permanent and free up some emotional capital as we slide silently into a new year, hoping to sneak past the devils and demons that are wont to waylay us.
Today, the sun is shining, the birds are frequenting the neighbor’s feeder, the snow is gone but the cold of winter is upon us after a two-day hiatus that felt like spring. In this topsy-turvy world we now inhabit, Florida was colder than Massachusetts, but now it’s cold in New Jersey, too, so the world may be righting itself.
I’m hopeful that I’ll find the energy that has eluded me these last few weeks as we turn the old into the new. That I will finally feel the urge, rather than just the passing thought, to tidy and organize and rid us of all the unnecessary junk we’ve accumulated “just in case.” So often I think of it, and then am rendered catatonic in the face of the daunting task. Let’s hope there will be a turn in the energy fields and a new vigor that comes with the change in the calendar. This is as close to a resolution as I plan to get.
And, now, the ramblings shall cease, for the time being.
Stay safe and healthy. Happy New Year to all, may 2021 bring hope and healing.