I'm pretty sure that--somewhere, somehow--my Nana is laughing at me

In true holiday form for me, I decided to make something last-minute in the kitchen.

My grandfather has been feeling particularly lonely and blue lately, so I thought a batch of his special fudge Nana used to make him would be in order. I remember as a kid being fascinated by the fact that Papa had his own special fudge that would sit in a covered candy dish on the side table next to his rocking chair. I always thought it was disgusting--dark, dense, and on the bitter side. Why would anyone eat that when they could have some the other fudge, the "Fantasy Fudge", that was basically brown-flavored marshmallow fluff. That's really what it's called--"Fantasy Fudge"--I didn't just make that up.

Now, as an adult, I really appreciate his kind. Sure, it's still sugary, but I like dark chocolate better than milk chocolate. So when I was down visiting last week, I pulled out Nana's old recipe box and copied down the recipe for "Jackson's Fudge", as she had written on the card.

Side note: Anyone who has ever looked at old recipes from family members can tell you that often these recipes aren't complete or even precise. You are as likely to find "a handful of flour" on the ingredient list as you are to find an ingredient list without cooking/baking instructions following it. The latter was true of this recipe, but a quick search on the internet solved the dilemma. Thanks, Al Gore!

So I set to making the fudge last night. I had even bought a candy thermometer so I would know when the temperature reached "soft ball stage." But dang it, it never got hot enough, it just kept boiling and boiling...and boiling, until the moisture had nearly evaporated. A quick test using the "old-fashioned" method of putting a drop of the fudge in a dish of cold water told me that it had indeed reached soft ball stage. But probably 10 minutes earlier. It was most likely closer to hard crack stage when I tested it (and not that kind, either. At least I could have sold some of that to make a bit of cash.) So I immediately pulled it off the heat and added the butter and vanilla, during which the fudge started to set up and I had to scrape hard, dried up chocolate stuff out of the pan and spatula. It definitely still tastes fine, but it's dry and crumbly.

Papa's not getting any fudge this year.

By 'Spirit' do you mean Bourbon? Yes, I've got some.

I had every intention of calling off Christmas this year.

Obviously, my years in retail have jaded me just a little bit to the joy I used to find in the season.

But far beyond that, my grandmother--who passed away in March--was one of the biggest fans of Christmas I have ever met. Not Christmas as in Christ's birthday (I would characterize my family as largely atheist), and not Christmas as in super-tacky lawn/outdoor decor like those ridiculous inflatable snow-globes people have in their yards or a plethora of lights that light up the neighborhood even on the darkest of nights.

Nana's decorating consisted mostly of the same decorations she'd had since my mom and uncles were small--never-burned wax candles and figurines--and the collection of ornaments she had collected over the years that were always perfectly arranged on a perfect Noble Fir tree. In fact, the trees she selected year after year were so similar to each other, it prompted my cousin when he was younger to ask if the tree that was currently up and decorated was the same one she had the year before.

One tradition my grandmother started when my older and younger cousin and I were young was to buy an ornament for us every year. She continued to do this for her 5 grandchildren until last Christmas. The oldest one I could find was from 1976 (I was 6 years old.) In my adult life, I have only had a Christmas tree a few times, but have found ways to display my fairly large ornament collection either on wreaths or wires strung across a mantle.

This year, I resisted the spirit of Christmas as long as I could. The other night, though, I was at the store and saw 15' cedar garlands for sale, which I envisioned out on mantle with some decorations nestled in and others hanging from the wire The Husband put up a few years ago.
The result?




Speaking of The Husband (who I might not categorize as someone who gets in the spirit...) surprised me a couple of weeks ago by having me come home to this:

The Lazy Gift-Giver

It's true. I am lazy in other aspects of my life, not just when it comes to my yard. My friends and family might argue that my sometimes-physically demanding 40-hour-a-week job allows me to be lazy. I just hate that excuse.

When October rolls around, I start to think about all of the crafty things I could make as gifts to give out to loved ones in December. Yes, start to think. And then my work life gets crazy-busy, and the next thing I know, it's the beginning of December. And I realize the liqueurs and infusions I want to make should have been started in September, the solid shea butter I haven't ordered yet for various beauty projects will take a week to get here (to say nothing of the time it will take me to make the products once it arrives), and I really should have started making the candles back in October since I only have a few molds. And to be honest, sometimes I don't get my inspiration for my craft projects until after Thanksgiving.

Luckily, there are other people to make cool things and are willing to sell them. There's Crafty Wonderland, and all of the great independent shops all over Portland where industrious and creative people sell their labors of love. And have you been to Etsy? Be careful, it's addictive...if I could pass off some of the great things I've bought there as my own, I would.

So a big THANK YOU to these people for saving me this holiday season.