In Which Ella Has a Lovely Christmas

Santa came with large boxes covered in geese à la The Twelve Days of Christmas.

Pippa opened it to discover a goose feather pillow-topper mattress for her bed.

Funny candies were inside of stockings.

No one has yet to eat it, and I’m not quite sure when anyone will decide to man up and eat the hard brown lumps.

And I got over twenty new books, and looked like this the entire day.

We had dinner, and I proved that I have neither a career in plating food or taking pictures of it. I swear it was MUCH better than it looks. Beef tenderloin is very hard not to like.

And then I turned on The Who and did the dishes while singing along. After all, nothing says Christmas like rock and roll and soap suds.

And as always, you can also find me on tumblr at http://emleng93.tumblr.com/, if, you know, you’re into that kind of thing.

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Merry Christmas Eve!

Santa is currently in the basement doing something that involves a surprising amount of scotch tape and the use of my personal scissors. He also requested a cookie and a smoothie with green apples, kiwi, spinach, broccoli, garlic, ginger, barley grass, and something else that didn’t not sound like it should normally go in a blender. It’s almost as good as the year when we were assured that all Santa wanted were fancy chocolate truffles and a martini, which Pippa and I very poorly prepared (apparently lime juice should only be done in small quantities and upwards of three small olives is deemed excessive).

Pushkin is trying to drink the water out of the tree.

Zelda has fallen asleep in a chair right where Santa is supposed to deposit Pippa’s gifts and is refusing to go sleep in her bed.

Maxwell is lying in my bed and testing the limits of how many times he can kick me before I make him leave.

And Pippa has been attempting for hours in an attempt “to make the morning get here faster.” However, she is still awake and reading Christmas picture books. Hopefully, this will mean that I don’t get leapt on at 6:30 this year.

And I’m settling down for a long winter’s nap not wearing a kerchief or a cap, but instead a knitted toque (my half-hearted attempt to be festive while unconscious) and my flowered nightgown that buttons up to my chin and hangs down almost to my feet. I’ve always felt that it’s best to look old fashioned on Christmas.

Merry Christmas!

Christ has been born!

(And commercialization of the holiday reigns)

(Though to be fair no one is certain at what time of year Christ was born, and the date was probably only chosen because it coincided with the Winter Solstice.)

(Still. Jesus, everybody! Jesus was born today!)

And as always, you can also find me on tumblr at http://emleng93.tumblr.com/, if, you know, you’re into that kind of thing.

In Which Ella Finishes Preparing for Christmas

The Ella family household is officially prepared for Christmas.

We purchased the Christmas tree and located the ornaments so that we can decorate it tomorrow. I’ve always found it strange that many people put their tree directly after Thanksgiving, but I’m sure that our tradition of trimming it on the weekend closest to Christmas seems equally bizarre to others. And I’m sure the way that my parents and I decorate it would also confuse them. It’s a process that lasts many hours because everything has to go on in a specific order, starting with the lights, moving onto garlands of Norwegian flags (We’re very found of Scandinavian Christmas decorations around here.) and garlands of stars, and then finishing it with ornaments that have to go on in a very particular order. It takes over three hours and Pippa and my Dad usually quit after the first hour and a half.

My dad and I went to a Swiss pork store where I perused the candies, and my father bought beef tenderloin, bratwursts, bacon, salami, and beef bones for the coming week. By the time we left the store, my wool coat smelled faintly like smoked meats, and I was the proud owner of many packs of candy, including one that advertised in very butchered English that it was “cooked over an open fire and broken into pieces.” I have absolutely no idea what its going to taste like, but whenever I see candy, or any food for that matter, advertised like that, I’m going to buy it. I also have a pack of something that looks sort of yellow and spherical. I’m going to need Cecelia to translate to make sure that I’m not going to blindly eat lemon-flavored hardened liver, though I doubt the candy would make it in Switzerland and Germany if it were disgusting.

Later, I spent the evening finishing my Christmas wrapping, only to emerge from the craft space to discover that everyone else had gone to bed, which I suppose is what happens to you when you decide to take your wrapping very seriously. When my father came down to check on me a few hours earlier, he laughed at me for using a ruler to measure the distance between the paper ribbon I was taping to a package. I wanted to make sure that it was straight and only had a 3/4 inch gap between the other strip. Pippa bailed on me about twenty minutes into the process when I started asking for her assistance with selecting papers. Apparently, she does find it interesting to debate the relative textures and shades of two gold papers (though the ribbing on the lighter gold definitely gives a present a more architectural feel, especially when paired with a band of a darker, heavier, and smoother paper in lieu of a ribbon).

Tomorrow, it’s tree-trimming time and my favorite church service of the year. I also plan on consuming my weight in bacon-wrapped dates.

And as always, you can also find me on tumblr at http://emleng93.tumblr.com/, if, you know, you’re into that kind of thing.

As It Turns Out, Eighteen Doesn’t Feel Any Different

Today has been one of those perfect beach days. I got up early and took a shower outdoors while the air was still clouded with fog. Stupidly, I left my towel in the back hall, and had to put my pajamas back on while I was still soaking wet. I marched my way back into the house, the grass sticking to my ankles and feet, feeling pretty defeated. Walking around in wet clothing with your hair deshelved is not a very elegant way of inaugerating being eighteen.

But things quickly got better. I dunked oat squares in lemon yogurt and drank a glass of orange juice, trying to see if I could keep the pulp out my mouth by making a sieve with my teeth. Then, I went out to the porch to talk to my grandmother and aunt and stare wistfully at my presents. I was really give maturity a run for its money.

We finally got around to present opening, and there were sun dresses from Free People, pretty cards, more clothes, a beautiful blue wooden box with a scarf inside, checks, books, and iTunes gift certificates. Tied for first place with the dresses was a poem by Mary Oliver that my aunt wrote out and backed on gorgeous blue paper.

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

I’m going to have to reorganize my bulletin boards at home to fit this in. It’s lovely, and I plan on memorizing it. That way, I’ll have more happy and beautiful things to repeat to myself when I’m bored or sad.

The house still needs cleaning from having been closed up all winter, so all five of us attacked the living room. All the furniture was pulled out from the walls and every picture, bowl, shell, doohickey, etc was dusted by my aunt and me. Then, I rearranged the mantle so that everything was in height order. As much as this makes me feel happy and organized, it kind of looks wonky and needs fixing. Clearly, I do not have a future in candlestick and trinket arranging.

I ate a goat’s cheese and roast beef sandwich for lunch, which is not a combination I would recommend. However, it’s still above eating Provolone cheese (the spawn of the devil), my other option. I did homework, sent in my voter registration forms, and fooled around until dinner. We ate at my favorite restaurant in town, and I ordered poorly. Scallops in cream sauce with bacon over fettucini seemed like a really great idea until it was right before me and screaming, “I AM PROBABLY OVER A THOUSAND CALORIES!” in my face. I just ate my mango salad and dubiously poked at it for the next hour.

And in the way that poor meals typically go, I ended up feeling so depressed that we just went home after eating. I had been planning on having my all-time-favorite-best-ever Milky Way ice cream for dessert to celebrate but even getting up to walk to the car felt like a chore. We drove home and watched the Bruins beat Tampa and the Red Sox beat Detroit as my dad periodically yelled at good plays, and my grandmother laughed.

Later, I pretended to officiate a church service while wearing a UConn snuggie backwards, and my dad and I went for a walk through the fog. Drops of water dripped down from the condensation on the leaves as we meandered down the roads near the beach. Maybe one night it will be so clear we can see the Milky Way. But I like how it is now, the way I feel cosy and enclosed in the safety of the house. Nothing can hurt me here. Going to sleep should be easy.

Today more than ever I felt loved. People kept texting me, and relatives called to sing Happy Birthday. It is so easy to forget experiences like today when I’m overrun with emotions. I am blessed, and I have a good life. Pain is always fleeting.

So here’s to another year of my life. Let’s see how it goes.