Happy Birthday, Wilda

We often drive by this classic school building, which was built the very same year John's mother was born. (Both are holding up extremely well, although the school did need a major face lift five years ago :-)

But not this lady:

And here she is, just a few years ago. Have a great day, Wilda.
Up here in Seattle, we're perched on the edge of hysteria since SNOW is expected just in time for the evening commute. But unlike the Thanksgiving storm, this one will be followed by warmer air so we'll have a slushy, sloppy day tomorrow as it transitions to rain. I'm headed to the museum this afternoon, but at the sight of the first flake I'll run for my life.

Return to light

"The shortest day has passed, and whatever nastiness of weather we may look forward to in January and February, at least we notice that the days are getting longer. Minute by minute they lengthen out. It takes some weeks before we become aware of the change. It is imperceptible even as the growth of a child, as you watch it day by day, until the moment comes when with a start of delighted surprise we realize that we can stay out of doors in a twilight lasting for another quarter of a precious hour."

Vita Sackville-West

Like most of the country, we spent time parked in front of the TV this weekend. It's amazing how much good HDTV you can get with just an antenna, if your husband is clever enough to set it up. Along with football (how about those Seahawks!) we watched rodeo bull-riding at Madison Square Garden. Followed by a PBS Great Performances Metropolitan Opera production of Don Pasquale. It was so good and so close-up it made you wonder why anyone would pay $300 for a front row seat at the Met. Sitting through an opera was practice for next Sunday when we have tickets to Seattle Opera's production of The Barber of Seville. Of course you have to actually leave the house and mingle with live people, instead of slumping on a couch in sweatpants.

Seattle has turned cold, and I hauled outside pots into the laundry room again. This gets old, but now I'm invested in saving a few silly plants. Freezing temperatures in Seattle are not that common, and cause all sorts of havoc when wet pavement turns to black ice in the morning. Plus, another "snow event" is expected Wednesday.

And woven through the weekend like an ugly thread, the appalling television news from Tuscon. We need more light and warmth in this country. Sunset at 4:38 today, and tomorrow at 4:40. So it goes.

Spaetzle

"Grandma Anna"

Most cultures have some version of noodle or dumpling. The Italians act like they invented pasta, and the Germans have their spaetzle. Sometimes you see dried spaetzle at specialty food stores, but it's just big chunks of regular egg noodles that must be boiled a long time. Nothing like fresh spaetzle. My German grandmother would make them by hand. She mixed the egg batter and spread it thinly on a little board, then sliced the spaetzle one-by-one into boiling water, dipping the knife as she went along. It sounds tedious, but I remember her knife flashing in a blur as the pot filled with noodles. Practice makes perfect.

The basic recipe is simple:

2 cups flour
3 eggs
milk
1 tsp. salt

Just put the flour and salt into a bowl, then break the eggs into a "well" in the middle. As you mix the eggs in the center, gradually pull in the flour. Slowly beat in enough milk to make a very soft dough.
The batter should begin to "sheet" off the spoon as you beat it...
Then it goes into the spaetzle maker, over a pot of boiling water. The little basin slides back and forth, pushing the dough through the holes in a few seconds. Slick!

You can buy one from Target. I don't usually care for single purpose kitchen gadgets, but this one is worth it.
Don't turn your back, because the pot likes to boil over. The spaetzle float up and are done in just a few minutes. Although my grandfather would have considered "machine" spaetzle gagingly thick.

John, however, loves them. Spaetzle makes a great side with a roast chicken dinner, and the leftovers are good the next day fried in butter with onion and parsley.

Winter us the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.

Edith Sitwell

Baby, it's cold outside

Here's the weather over in eastern Washington:

Thursday	Friday	Saturday	Sunday	Monday
29° F | 27° F	32° F | 22° F	29° F | 9° F	23° F | 2° F	23° F | -1° F
Ice Pellets 40% chance of precipitation	Chance of Snow 50% chance of precipitation	Partly Cloudy	Partly Cloudy	Partly Cloudy

You need lots of layers to go outside.
And when you dress yourself, sometimes things get mixed up.

Boots and gloves? A good idea.

Then fun in the snow for Nova.

And for Roger, too-- walking near the Methow river.
Thanks, Amanda for the pictures!

Another wise man

"Wine makes daily living easier,
less hurried, with fewer tensions and
more tolerance."

Benjamin Franklin

Epiphany

"Three Wise Men"

Byzantine church mosaic
Ravenna, Italy

‘A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.’

From, Journey of the Magi
T.S Eliot

Today is Twelfth Night and the end of the 12 days of Christmas. January 5th is also the Epiphany-- a feast day which marks the visitation of the Magi. Epiphany is celebrated across Christian cultures with different rituals, some including gifts. Epiphany is a Greek word, meaning the sudden comprehension or greater meaning of something.

In Puerto Rico, children fill a box with grass and put it under their bed for the wise men's camels. They polish their shoes, and lay them out for the King's gifts as they pass by.

In New Orleans, Epiphany is the start of carnival season and King Cakes are baked. In France, people eat cake of puff pastry and almond cream.

In parts of Ireland, the day is called "Women's Christmas" or "Little Christmas" and men take on household chores while ladies go out together.

In medieval England, a cake containing a bean was eaten and the person who found it would become the "Lord of Misrule." For one night only, everything was topsy-turvy: those who were high lords became peasants, and vice versa. Shakespeare wrote a comedy called Twelfth Night, with many mistaken identities.

And how about a fruitcake throw? In Manitou Springs, Colorado they dress up in funny hats and have a competition for the farthest throw and the most creative projectile device. Just another symbolic leave-taking of the Christmas holidays. Fruitcake is the traditional Christmas bread in English-speaking countries, and of course the source of many bad jokes.


Are your Christmas decorations down? Tradition says it's unlucky to leave them hanging after today.