What’s your favorite Christmas cookie?

Wednesday, December 9, 2009 at 12:47 pm (Youngest of Seven)
Tags: , ,

I seem to be the designated cookie baker in the family. Not by election, just by default — I’m usually the only one who makes them, and now it’s sort of expected.

For the past several years, I’ve made 7 or 8 different kinds — old favorites and some new ones that I particularly like or that sound good. Here’s what last year’s cookie tray looked like — I have a lot of baking left to do this year.

I’m curious: What’s your favorite kind of Christmas cookie? Leave a comment and let me know. If it’s on the unusual side (e.g., not thumbprints or gingerbread or spritz cookies or something most people would know right off), describe it please. If you have a recipe, so much the better. (Or if you have a recipe for an old favorite that you swear is the best ever, I’d love that too.)

I always try to make at least one thing different every year, and it helps to know what’s really worth the effort out of the million recipes you can find online. And who better to ask than experts like you?

A balanced diet is a cookie in each hand.
~ Some clever soul

10 Comments

Pondering oil and water and why they sometimes mix

Monday, November 23, 2009 at 2:33 pm (Youngest of Seven)
Tags:

A blog I visit regularly is The Sister Project — a collection of blogs, really, devoted to the complex bond that is sisterhood, whether by birth or by choice (sister-friends). I was immediately drawn to it because my own sisterly relationships have done more to shape me as a person than anything else in my life. It’s interesting to read the stories and see how the relationships differ from family to family and friend to friend.

Sometimes, the relationship between sisters isn’t so good — my sister and I were recently talking about this, and wondering why that was. It’s not that we (my three sisters and I) have an idyllic relationship — we’re all very different and have our moments of disconnectedness. But the underlying ties are always there. Maybe stretched at times, but never broken. Always more in touch than out. Oil and water that mixes…usually.

Not so the two sisters in question. Only 3 years apart in age, they just don’t seem to have that closeness, and we don’t understand why.

Are they holding on to perceptions of childhood wrongs, even into their late 20’s and 30’s? Well you got to do this, and I always had to do that. You were the smart one. Well you were the pretty one.

Are they just really different people with different outlooks on life that keep them from “clicking”? (But so are my sisters and I, in some ways. It hasn’t stopped us from being close.)

Are they just not impressed by the fact that the other is the only sister they’ll ever have? The only one who’s been there, done that through their shared childhood? The only one for whom “remember the time Mom…” and “remember when Dad…” will bring that spark of recognition?

Do they just not like each other very much?

I can’t explain it. Or understand it. But I think about it, and hope that someday the elusive bond will be forged. Because if you’re lucky enough to have a sister, you should be lucky enough to like her…a lot.

A sister can be seen as someone who is both ourselves
and very much not ourselves — a special kind of double.
~ Toni Morrison

6 Comments

Remembering another November 13

Friday, November 13, 2009 at 10:33 am (Youngest of Seven)
Tags: , , ,

It was one of those days I’ll always remember. And it makes me wonder why so many of “those days” people say are memorable are for something bad that happened…like the day Kennedy was shot, or the day Reagan was shot, or the day the Challenger shuttle exploded, or of course, 9/11. Can’t say I remember many really happy days in that way — my wedding day stands out, but little else. Maybe because I never had a child — do moms & dads remember their kids’ birth days that way? Or is the brain pre-wired to remember trauma more than delight? To feel pain more deeply than joy?

November 13, 2001, is memorable for me because it’s the day my dad died. Unexpectedly, though, thankfully, peacefully in his sleep. I remember everything about that day and the next few. As hard as they were, they answered a question that had troubled me for a long time — what would it be like to lose someone so close to me?

Until you live through it, you can’t know. But once you do, I think there’s a certain peace in that knowing. A “that which does not kill us makes us stronger” kind of peace amid the pain and sorrow. It allows you to understand and feel a kinship with others who have experienced similar losses — you’re all part of the club now. You know what it’s like. You can empathize, rather than simply sympathize.

Of course, I was very lucky to delay that experience until adulthood — how horrible, and how different, for a child to go through the same thing. I can’t imagine any peace in that circumstance.

I’ll spend today focusing on the good things I remember about my dad, and the positive lessons I took away from that sad day 8 years ago. It’s a luxury not everyone has — to remember a life and a death in a reflective, peaceful way — and I’m thankful.

We understand death for the first time
when he puts his hand upon one whom we love.
~ Madame de Stael

3 Comments

« Older entries Newer entries »