Seventeen years of Treehouse talk

Seventeen years of Treehouse talk

Thursday, December 22, 2016

In the week when Christmas comes: Thursday

Let every steeple ring a bell
With a joyful tale to tell,
     In the week when Christmas comes.

~~ from "In the Week When Christmas Comes," by Eleanor Farjeon


A real-time view of three days before Christmas:

8 a.m.: Lydia has just left for school, and I have just fed Muffin a bowl of lettuce and carrots. I'm reading through the blogs on my feed, including why we need to teach arts instead of subjects at Circe, a poem by Malcolm Guite, and a pantry post from Coffee, Tea, Books, and Me. I have butter softening on the kitchen counter (for whatever I might need it for).

9:45 a.m.: Mr. Fixit has gone on his usual Thursday treasure hunting, after we both spent a few minutes clearing snow. Lydia had mentioned that we were low on some things, but I didn't see how that could be, until I checked the flour and the white sugar. Oops. Some creative compromising was required, but I do have the baking plan figured out now, and the table is  covered with pre-measured bowls of flour, raisins, and chocolate chips. There is also a loaf of stuffing bread already going in the breadmaker. (It has to dry out for a couple of days.)

12 noon: one load of in the washing macine, one in the dryer. Most of the baking dishes done. Bread out. Three kinds of sweet things and one orange-cranberry loaf out of the oven. Ingredients collected for fudge-making later.

I need some lunch and some Christmas music.
2 p.m.: Mr. Fixit came home and we got everything swept, boxed, folded, hung, dried, and/or put away. I had a bit of time to check e-mail and read Overdrive library books (I'm trying to reach my Goodreads goal).  Muffin came out of his cage for a human-visit.

4 p.m.: We decided to have an easy dinner, so there's a pan of frozen cannelloni in the oven. Mr. Fixit is going around the corner to check our mailbox, because for the second winter in a row, Canada Post refuses to bring letters to our door. While he's out, he's going to pick up Lydia at her stop and save her the walk home. She gets picked up at our house now, but the dropoff point is a few blocks away.

6:30 p.m.: Dinner is over, the fudge is made, and Lydia is studying for a last-day-before-the-holidays history test on World War II. I am still working on library books.

10 p.m.: Some people are probably watching Christmas movies. We watched an episode of Star Trek: Enterprise and tasted the fudge.

And how was your day?

No comments: