CreativeSpace

Our holiday in pictures

Merry Christmas to all

Well, my Creative Dears, I had a million and one ideas for today's post, most of them revolving around cookies. (I was baking my little heart out this afternoon while dodging Little Bear's gaping maw. It felt like the baking olympics, the long jump alongside a hot oven. She found it hilarious to lick me as I moved around the kitchen.) More specifically about how awesome icebox cookies were, and I was looking forward to extolling their numerous virtues. My cookies have all been delivered, the borrowed mattress arranged and made in Little Bear's room (she thinks it's there purely for her bouncing enjoyment), the stockings have been hung and it's not my fault if they're all plucked bare by Saturday due to a bear's tender ministrations, and the general chaos of stuff around the house has been mostly tamed. Alas, all my industriousness has rendered me good for nothing but beating a straight path to bed. And so I shall.

But first let me wish all of you the very happiest of holidays, however you choose to celebrate them, and peace and joy in the New Year.

I'll be back to blogging on Monday. Hopefully.

Providing that I'm not incapacitated by my first attempt at cooking a crown roast or the downside of a three day sugar binge.

I'm mostly kidding.

Cookie of the Day: Chocolate Peanut Butter Chip

My general rule about baking cookies at this time of year is that I can't use my usual recipes. These cookies have to be SPECIAL! EXCITING! And other descriptive words in all-caps. As I perused my cookbooks and back issues of Martha I made a list including: rugelah, Martha's sugar cookies with royal icing (a better invitation to holiday meningitis I have yet to find), ginger snaps, chocolate mocha buttons, and orange icebox cookies. And what did I bake first? Why, chocolate peanut butter chip cookies, of course.

In my defense, I hardly ever make them. The Husband doesn't care for chocolate cookies, dontcha know. (Sometimes I fear he was raised by non-chocolate eating, cold cereal loving wolves.) My cousin, Katie, gave me this recipe in my family cookbook, her favorite cookie from her days of working at Chocolate World. Hershey chocolate isn't my favorite, despite having been raised in The Sweetest Place on Earth, but I make an exception for their peanut butter chips.

Chocolate Peanut Butter Chip Cookies
From Chocolate World in Hershey, Pennsylvania

2 cups flour
¾ cups cocoa
1 tsp baking soda
½ tsp salt

Combine and set aside.

1 ¼ cups butter
2 cups sugar

Beat until light and fluffy.

2 eggs
2 tsp vanilla

Add to butter/sugar mixture and beat until well combined. Gradually add flour mixture next. Stir in 10 oz. package of peanut butter chips.

Bake on un-greased cookie sheets at 350° for 8-9 minutes. Cool slightly before removing from sheets.

 

After sewing late into the night (I promised myself that this habit WILL NOT continue into the new year--you can laugh now) I had to set the table as a practice run for Christmas dinner. My Dear Sim gave me the idea for the tablecloth. She sewed three strips of coordinating fabric together to create a tablecloth and had enough extra fabric leftover to sew a set of napkins. Her ambition was inspiring, but in this final countdown to Christmas, the creative wind had left my sails. Frankly, I was in "do-or-die" mode. I purchased decorating-weight fabric that was 50% off, and because of the wider width, two yards sewn together fully covered my table. Totally by accident, the center seam was barely noticeable because the fabric matched almost perfectly. My sewing victory was rendered moot, however, because the runner covers it.

I was chagrined to see the wrinkles running down the length of the table in this picture, but my mother assured me that she will iron everything when arrives. Bless her heart! Ironing, however, will do nothing to stop the Little Bear from leaping on to the table and running up and down it. I wish that was an exaggeration on my part. I have actual video footage of her on the table, trotting over the fabric (I was attempting to measure it, silly me.) with the yardstick in hand and hollering, "here I come!" And laughing. Have I mentioned the hysterical laughter? Which meant that no matter how stern I tried to appear, after all--our family doesn't run on the table, I couldn't hide my snickers. That only egged her on, and soon we were both doubled-over with giggles. You can bet your bottom dollar that by making me laugh, running on the table is now a fully sanctioned activity in the Activity Book of Little Bear. Sigh.

The runner was made from more of the recycled felt (but I have to ask myself why I thought three yards of the stuff was necessary), and I cut out five Christmas tree shapes that I later sewed around in red thread. The seams are stitched in red as well.

This morning was spent cutting and soaking the holly branches in a mild soap solution. I learned my lesson several years ago when I brought in boughs of holly for the mantels only to have thousands of tiny green spiders hatch and crawl all over everything. Merry Christmas, indeed.

Now that the tablecloth and runner were finished, I was able to put away my sewing machine. Packing it in the closet actually gave me pause, and I entertained the idea of keeping it out through the week. Like I'd have a sudden emergency crop up that demanded the use of my sewing machine. What?! It's official, Christmas preparations might have made me crazy.

 

The sun came out and a stocking was finished

When I saw the sun this morning, it felt like a reunion with an old friend. It burst through the transom over the front door to shine on Judy the Garland.

And with all the beautiful light shining 'round, I was able to sufficiently admire the fruits of my work from last night. Late last night, I might add. The only thing getting me through the late nights of elving is Season 1 of Mad Men. (Oh, and copious cups of hot chocolate.)

I cut out the stars first and then fused interfacing to the backs. I left the edges carefree, so the white would be picked up by the stitches along the seam and the cuff. The Husband remarked that they weren't "perfect," but he was just yanking my chain. I reminded him that teasing one's spouse so close to the holiday would either make Santa retract all his presents and/or a karate chop would come flying at him from the annoyed spouse. His pick.

Hung by the chimney with care...kinda

We had a beautiful snow fall this morning which made staying inside and doing Christmas things even more snug and cozy. We made a trek outside, of course, especially after Little Bear looked out the window and saw the snow flying. "Wow! Wow! Wow!" she said. "That's snow," I said. "SNOW!" she cried.

The dog wore a coat. We donned ours. And our hats, and scarves, and wool socks, and boots. Especially our boots. (Pulling boots on a toddler requires the patience of a saint and the flexibility of a circus contortionist.) Little Bear and Mudslide could barely contain their excitement and it reminded me of my own childhood snow days. Did your mom put plastic bread bags over your feet to aid in sliding them into your boots? Winter is indelibly linked to Roman Meal bread in my memory. After the rigmarole of preparing us for the snowy outside my parents would say, "now stay out there awhile." I was always baffled by this. Until today.

After the time it took to get all three of us ready for the snow, I figured we needed to spend at least 30 minutes outside to make it worth the investment of preparation. I'm not sure if we made it. Who caved in first? The dog, of course. He looked askance at the snowy ground then at me, as if to say, "surely you don't expect me to walk in that." Since I haven't invented a dog rickshaw yet, in which I pull the dog, I most certainly did expect him to trot through the snow and take care of his dogly business.

I had a long list of crafting on my agenda today, but my big accomplishment of the morning was Little Bear's Christmas stocking. She discovered pom poms for the first time when I pulled my Christmas stocking out from the storage box. With a shriek of delight, she plucked them off their string and squished them to her chest. It took a couple laps around the living room to grab them from her, and after the exercise, I decided that her stocking definitely needed pom poms. Some of her very own.

My original stocking idea involved knitting with glittering sequins sprinkled through winter white wool. This close to the holiday, though, I made peace with my shortcomings in the sewing department. To prevent any seasonal fits of meningitis, I made her stocking out of felt. Not only was felt a rather forgiving fabric, but the remnant that I picked up from the fabric store was made from 100% post-consumer recycled plastic bottles. How freakin' cool is that?

My other rule was that I didn't want to invest so much time that I wouldn't be able to bring myself to make a nicer stocking in the future. I drew the template from an already-made stocking and used a remnant of fleece to make the cuff. All in all, I'm rather pleased with it.

Little Bear doesn't understand what's going on with presents and stockings and the decorated tree. She does know that the packages that arrive at the front door need to be opened immediately, regardless of who it's for, and that anything wrapped in pretty paper should be thoroughly rassled and poked. Hence, her stocking is sitting high on the mantel for the time being and any and all presents are hidden in our one closet upstairs. When the delivery person rings the doorbell, the Husband and I both leap into action. One of us distracts Little Bear while the other quickly opens the door for the package and then sprints upstairs to squirrel it out of sight. I'm starting to feel like part of a spy ring with all of the lurking and hiding. Next thing you know I'll be snapping pictures with a tiny camera stored in my shoe and whispering coded messages into my wristwatch.