Yesterday I tried something new. That being baking bread not in a loaf pan but instead in a circular artisan style, hoping to create a bread bowl for spinach dip for today's last Christmas gathering with my dad's whole family.
After a quick conference at the grocery store with their bread baker about parchment paper and using heat to make it rise high, I came home to give it a whirl as omelettes were being made on the other side of the kitchen. I told you it was a just on this side of fabulous kind of Saturday.
While the bread was rising by the fire, Christmas decorations came down which is not nearly as fun as putting them up. Although I do find serious satisfaction in getting my house back in order. I don't think it's a coincidence we all start the new year with clean houses; someday I will share my thoughts about how a cluttered environment makes for a cluttered mind, but that's not today.
Today I'm talking about bread. And how it actually did what it was supposed to do!
The spinach dip is now made, the bread is cut into a bowl, and I'm ready for the family gathering this afternoon.
Every year, we have a women's gift exchange and a men's gift exchange and we fight over the presents. Mostly because it's fun to mock fight. Partly because sometimes we really want something. My mom makes a quilt every year, which is always a hot item. This year she has been struggling with her health a bit since Thanksgiving (more on that later too). Momma Debi wasn't sure if she'd get one made.
The day after Christmas, which let's remember was Wednesday, my dad told her he would help and they would get one done. Help he did and my mom worked her magic to create yet another beautiful quilt. In four days.
Last night my family all came over to my house for cheese, wine, and cards.
We played International Rummy and my dad lost which always makes things interesting. But it's part of his charm, as is supporting my mom and helping her with quilts. You have to love him for both.
While we played and Billy was exposed to the competitiveness for the first time, my mom sat next to me in my flower chair and finished hand stitching the binding.
My mom is a saint. She would never say how she doesn't feel well right now and how she finished that quilt despite of it, but I can say she is a wonder. Because she is.
And please add Momma Debi to your thoughts and say some extra prayers for her as we head into January with some important appointments and hopefully some not scary news. For now, we will celebrate Christmas one more time today and spend time together. And the quilt will be cherished by who ever's hands it lands in.
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