‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring – except for a louse. And several hundred of his little buddies. Did you know that’s where the word lousy comes from? And nitpicking? I get it now.
Yes, Christmas this year was made memorable by lice, gastrointestinal distress and more laundry in two days than I usually do in a week. On Christmas morning it was decided that we probably shouldn’t make our usual rounds, despite W sporting a freshly shaved head and snug toque, lest we spread more than love this holiday season. So we stayed home, and in fact still have unwrapped gifts under the tree to be opened at such time as we can be declared free and clear.
On the upside, there was this turkey – a 22 lb. heritage breed from Winter’s. Divine. Late in the morning we stuffed it, buttered it, salt and peppered it, and let the oven do the rest. There is truly no better potpourri/food foreplay than a turkey roasting in a warm house over the course of a day.
We ate at our house, at our table. There were 5 of us instead of 15, and we propped my laptop up on the table and opened our Christmas crackers on skype, kinda-sorta with the rest of the family at my Mom’s house, a few blocks away, on her laptop.
I made mashed potatoes and peas, and cranberries simmered with orange juice, sugar and a sprig of rosemary, gravy and Brussels sprouts with buttered pecans.
This is my favourite photo of the week. Untouched.