1. The boys from Australia played hockey today with Christian and the Bells (siblings and cousins all tough little athletes) at the Fairgrounds rink. It was so cold– the coldest day yet it seems, with the north wind screaming down Main Street, earth truly as hard as iron and water like a stone– that I was concerned for their safety. “They loved it,” Christian said, beaming afterwards. He was hoping they would. (They borrowed their cousins’ skates.)
“Can they skate well enough to play?” I asked.
“Oh yeah” he said. ” They didn’t really need to since all the kids did was push hard to get to one end of the rink, and then turn around and the wind blew them all back to the other side and they’d do it again. It was great.”
2. Teddy came by while they were gone and went straight for his race cars and the track. “Mimi, what happened to my cars?”
“It’s a long story buddy, and frankly, I have no idea where all the cars are, but we can look under the couch for starters. They are in the house, somewhere. I promise you that.”
3. I cooked a moose stew for supper, and the Australians were a tad suspicious. The boys eyed the antlers above the fireplace and wanted to know how it was killed and where the bullets were. (I know, hardly a peaceful dinner conversation for little children that we hope will sleep well.) I explained it was only one bullet, and it was not in the stew. They each took a very little bit in their first bowl, but came back for seconds and thirds. “I never thought I’d eat a moose,” Mateo said.
4.Ella thinks Americans drink egg nog, and inquired about it as we all gathered post-hockey game. I wanted her to have the best. I hoped that my friend Joanne could make some for us ( she made egg nog for the governor when she worked as a chef at the mansion in Juneau, and for us too at some legendary parties at her home in Haines.) It was pretty strong, as I recall. More rum or whiskey than nog. But Joanne is away. So I bought some of the fancy organic kind at the store, and this evening we all tried it. ( I can’t remember what Joanne’s actually tasted like. It was that kind of good.)
Honestly? I’m sure this type was delicious, the best, as egg nog goes. But egg nog has never been a thing with us.
Still, I poured a bit and passed the glasses around.
Everyone sipped.
“We could try it in coffee,” Sarah said.
“The kids might like it,” Ella said. (They didn’t.) “Maybe it would be better warm?”
“I have rum,” I said. When I bought the egg nog at Mt. Market, I asked Mike what goes in it, “typically…” He said whiskey, or rye or rum. Brandy. A good brandy is nice. And then I said, yes– but what should I buy to mix with it? (I don’t have any of that in my cupboard.) He sold me a pint of spiced rum.
It was already dark, and very cold and windy, it’s true, but way too early for spiked drinks. Barely 3 o’clock. Tom was just finishing up the Christmas version of the country show on KHNS, with Merry Christmas From the Family and Run Rudolph Run.
Tonight, Chip is nursing an orange juice, hoping to beat that cold, and the kids that are here have all gone down to the Pioneer Bar to meet old friends. We are babysitting and I hear Emilia banging around up there. (She is supposed to be asleep.) There is a blizzard warning. I hope we really do get a foot of snow tonight. Eliza and her family, and Emilia’s dad Bryan arrive on tomorrow’s ferry, and then we will all be here– and it will be Christmas Eve.It’s been a very, very busy day. Maybe, after I tuck Emilia in, again, I’ll try a little rum in that egg nog. Just to see if it improves it. It’s a kind of dessert. After all, it’s only once a year.
Here’s one more thing: I read somewhere, a long time ago, that one way to celebrate Christmas, this re-birth of love incarnate as Christians believe, is to look with fresh eyes on people, especially the ones closest to you, and to do your best to see them as if for the very first time– no matter how long you’ve known them. The same way a parent sees a newborn. With that kind of love.
