Making Christmas - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg

Making Christmas:

I looked out my window,
and what do you know?
A nasty grey drizzle
had melted my snow!
And rain in December,
it just isn't right -
It clouds o'er my Christmas
and stifles delight.
"But I will be happy",
I said to myself.
The mood of the weather
I'll put on the shelf.
I'll turn on the tree lights
and get down to work.
I've got things to finish,
there's no time to shirk!"
So I frosted cookies
then popped up some corn.
I got plenty done before
it was mid-morn.
Then old friend stopped by
with some cookies on plate.
I felt pretty good then -
in fact, I felt great!
Before long another
appeared at my door -
this one bearing presents -
what could I ask more?
On grey drizzly day when
the weather is bleak,
and for Christmas spirit
so wearied I seek -
I turned on my lights and
though skies never cleared,
The grey in my heart - well,
it just disappeared!
I kept making Christmas
for my family,
and others showed up who
made Christmas for me!

Sharon Flood Kasenberg, December 19, 2017

It's not often that I post twice in the space of a week, but when inspiration hits, why not?

Christmas has been very busy this year. It seemed to sneak up on me. Until yesterday I still thought it was two weeks away - seriously. So yesterday was a very harried day as I rushed to finish up the Christmas baking. Today I woke up feeling more like I had a decent grip on this whole Christmas thing - and then I looked out the window.

Nothing douses my Christmas spirit faster than a rainy day in December. I get gloomy at the mere thought that we might have a green Christmas. I'm a northern girl - born and bred in Sault Ste. Marie - and Christmas is just plain supposed to be white. And not "a skiff of snow white", but a full fledged grab your skates and/or toboggan white.

So I will admit that the clouds and drizzle made my holiday spirit go fizzle...

But there were things to do and I had no time to mope, so I turned on my indoor Christmas lights and got down to work. I frosted cookies. I watered my plants. I put together a couple of cookie tins for friends. I started making caramel popcorn (a favourite stocking stuffer in our household) - and then, there was a knock on my door.

Our realtor came by with cookies. He's an interesting guy, our realtor. He moonlights as a part-time pastry chef, and makes lovely European delicacies that he sometimes sells to restaurants. (He's that good.) He's also a really nice guy, so a visit from him is always pleasant. He came in and we had a brief visit. I gave him a tour of the house, and he admitted that if there's a house he's sold that he wishes he could've bought himself, this one is it.

Well, the cookies made me pretty happy, but knowing how much he likes my house reminded me just how much I like my house - which made me happier still.

He'd barely left when a friend stuck her head in my front door and called out to me. She came bearing gifts - one for me, and one for our exchange student. They were really sweet, thoughtful gifts - and like the Grinch I could feel my heart getting two sizes bigger.

You see, "Holiday Dreams Sharon" still makes the odd appearance. She tells me I put in all kinds of time cleaning and preparing and "making Christmas happen." She whispers in my ear, "they don't really appreciate all the time you put into this!"

Oh, I know she's wrong. I know it when my grown sons still ask (with a look of avid hope) if I'm making their favourite treat this year. I know it when the one who lives here happily helps trim the tree - and his brother says, "Save some ornaments for me to hang!" I know it when our exchange student casts longing glances as yet another container of goodies is put in the fridge. I know it when my husband salivates as I run through my repertoire of daily baking tasks, or looks around our house and says, "She sure does dress up nicely for Christmas!"

But in spite of all the affirmation that I get from my menfolk, sometimes I get weary - like I did this morning. And at times like that nothing can boost spirits more than having a friend (or two!) stop by and chat. The gifts and cookies were bonus. The real gift is knowing that I'm being thought of. The real gift is being reminded that I have a really great place to live. The real gift is knowing I'm loved.

The real gift is knowing that what comes around, really does go around. The Christmas that I'm busy making for others is elsewhere being made for me.

Merry Christmas (again!) from the Rhyming Muse, and may you all "make Christmas" in the best way you can for those you love and care for.

Christmas Re-viewed - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg

Christmas Re-viewed

I see this season
through new set of eyes
as each experience
fills you with surprise.
And thus for me, old
flavours have more zest -
and everything I see
is reassessed.
I see afresh the
places that I go,
and feel the icy
chill of winter snow.
I watch as new tastes
settle on your tongue,
and ears hear carols
you have never sung.
And gratitude is
washed o'er me anew
as I see Christmas
from your point of view.

by Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Dec. 10, 2017

At the end of November we had a guest come to stay - an international student from Brazil. The house was in the midst of yet another round of renovations, and we could've said it just wasn't the right time - but we didn't. And he doesn't care one bit that there's dust in the hallway upstairs or a curtain on our bathroom door. In fact, he loves our house, loves the town, and is a really, really good sport when we correct his English pronunciation and grammar.

We live in a big house - we have room for one more. (Ha - we have room for more than one more!)

I felt some anxiety about taking in a student. What if the student found the town boring, and hated the shows we watch on television? I'm not a great cook - what if the student hated the meals I prepared? I'd just have to hope that a few good desserts could atone for less than stellar meals....

I lucked out. Our student has a sweet tooth. He has enjoyed getting caught up on Star Wars before we take him to the upcoming movie. If you ever want to witness pure ecstasy, watch the expression on the face of a kid who's biting into his first (still warm and gooey) home-made chocolate chip cookie.

"This is amazing!" he said - and I knew he'd forgive the sloppy Joe's and the canned sauce I'd serve up with pasta.  Last night I made brownies, which were proclaimed the "new favourite".

Hosting this boy is a lot of fun. He marveled at the decorations I put up for Christmas, and asked if we were going to put up "a big tree" - I'd already erected several three foot trees in strategic locations and a four foot tree in the kitchen. Last Saturday night we hauled our old six-footer up from the basement and the four of us decorated it. The end result was proclaimed beautiful.

The next day we took him and his friend on a day trip to Goderich. It was beyond gratifying to see those two kids stare out at Lake Huron.

"This is the most beautiful place in Canada I've seen!", he told us.

It's interesting to re-evaluate all of the things you do and places you go - especially at Christmastime. Seriously - how many times have I gone to Goderich and never even bothered to look at the lake? And those treats that I deem too commonplace for Christmas? Not by his standards!

"I bake a lot at Christmas" I told him. "We have a little taste of what I baked, and then put the rest in the fridge to eat over the holidays."

"Do you bake chocolate chip cookies, cupcakes and brownies at Christmas?" he asked.

He looked a bit disheartened when I said I didn't, but perked up quickly when told he'd definitely enjoy those treats again before he returns to Brazil at the end of January. The cupcakes, by the way, were a cake mix. He had no idea what a cake mix was, and wondered how I baked such small cakes - so I showed him the box and explained that you add eggs, oil and water, stirred it up, and baked it in a special cupcake pan. Sheesh - how often have I baked a cake mix - apologetically, I might add - without stopping to consider that it's a convenience that relatively few people get to enjoy?

Shortbread cookies were apparently underwhelming, but Nanaimo bars got two thumbs up. Next week, he and I are going to make brigadeiros - a truffle-like treat they make in Brazil. It's nut free and gluten free, so my husband and daughter-in-law will definitely approve!

I've forewarned our guest that our house will get noisier and more crowded once my son, daughter-in-law and mother arrive for the festivities. He'll get to see us in our rowdy, holiday glory, and watch how our family's Christmas traditions play out. I know it sounds crazy, but that makes me feel more excited about Christmas than I've felt in a long time.

Make no mistake - as adults go, I get pretty excited about Christmas. I love the baking, the decorating and the Christmas carols (most of which our house guest has never heard) - but to catch a glimpse of a Canadian Christmas as seen through the eyes of a sixteen-year-old Brazilian is a rare opportunity that I'm relishing.

To someone who's never seen snow, never seen our Santa Claus, or worn winter boots, life in this part of the world, and at this time of year, is pretty different. I'm sure he thinks I'm loco for liking snow (heck - most Canadians think I am!) - but hey - there is something magical about fresh snow in December.

So here's my challenge for the holiday-harried and winter-weary North Americans reading this post:

Pretend - for just one day - that it's all new to you. Sniff the smell of fresh pine trees and wreaths on your way into the grocery store. Marvel over the invention of the chocolate chip - or a cake mix, or a cupcake pan. Look at those sparkling, snow-laden boughs like you've never seen them before. Listen to an honest-to-goodness Christmas carol carefully. (Warning - don't torture your ears by attempting this with Jingle Bells or the Little Drummer Boy!)

Are you still feeling jaded about Christmas? If so - you need to pretend harder.

Merry Christmas to all of you from the Rhyming Muse : )