Monday, December 12, 2016

Today I am grateful for traditions.  That sounds a little “Fiddler on the Roof”, but I believe all of us have traditions, even if they are not spectacularly huge or sort of happen in an expected way.

When I was a kid my mom tried a new punch recipe that called for white crème soda. She decided to make an oval ice mold, dyed red to make it look more festive.  Then she couldn’t find white crème soda and went with the brown.  It was delicious to drink, but disgusting to look at.  Give it a few years and that punch disaster gets requested over and over, even though it looks like a turtle floating in a bog.  Hence the new traditional name:  Mud Turtle Punch!

My granddaughter, Anja and her friend, Darby and I were talking as we got ready to go the 41st Annual Wassail at a friend’s house.  I figure Himself and I have been going for  about 26 of those, only missing the three years we were in Jakarta, Indonesia.  Although she doesn’t remember it, Anja was there when she was little, but Darby and Anja have been coming with us together for the last five years.

They stay overnight at our house after the party so both can be here for our brunch the next day.  We used to do a lot more chatting in past years, but now the primping has taken over.  Good grief.  Maybe I would look that good, too, if I took two hours making it happen.  Nah.  Not a chance!

We love this hectic weekend, jammed into the busiest season of the year when no one has any time or energy.  Although it gets harder and harder, I love slinging hash for the masses.  My joints are aching, my muscles weary, my body feels like Gumby if he was struck by lightning.  But my house is reasonably back to normal and my heart is full.  Traditions do that for me.  I wonder if mom still has that Mud Turtle Punch recipe?

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