Crafty Coyote: The Christmas Edition

In an earlier entry I mentioned Christmas gifts--how I was making them, every one, this year, and how it would be dirt cheap. I mean, heartfelt and crafty, not cheap. Did someone say cheap?

Anyway, now that the holiday has come and gone, I can unveil to you my grand scheme for thrifty Christmas success. Here is a complete gift:

That's what they looked like, packed up and ready to go. The contents of one gift may or may not include one or more or none of the following:

A stack of hand-drawn greeting cards (blank white cards purchased in bulk--years and years ago--and decorated with calligraphy, felt pen illustrations and/or metallic gel pen highlights), attractively wrapped with hemp cord left over from the hemp craze circa 2001.

Origami ornaments. Remember the origami boxes I mentioned several times over the last month (usually in conjunction with Arrested Developement)? They're super easy to make, and I bet you could come by directions online. I made boxes mostly, though a few stars and snowflakes worked their way in there, and then threaded gold-braided ribbon through 'em and tied a little loop on one end so the whole thing could hang, attractively, from a bough.

Chocolate chip cookies! We can thank Ashley for the most amazing choc. chip recipe ever. These bad boys have uber-dark chocolate, milk chocolate, espresso dark chocolate and sugar-free Belgian chocolate in them instead of plain old Tollhouse (not that there's anything wrong with Tollhouse). I wrapped them in brown wax paper, tied them hemp and a calligraphied tag, and dropped them in the bag.

As for the wrapping, it's exactly what it looks like: brown paper lunch bags, with hemp cord and a gift tag. The gift tags were either hand-stamped or (an idea I blatantly stole from Erin--because it's absolutely brilliant--and therefore take no credit for but will definately use again) cut from leftover Christmas cards. The one shown was one of this year's cards that was sent to my work by another office. It's a gorgeous card, and now it lives on in an attractive gift tag.

Voila!

If you have questions or ideas, I'd love to hear them--especially the ideas. I had a blast making the gifts, and the best part was definately putting each one together for my loved ones. You know, designing cards specifically with my mom in mind, or trying to pick out the ornament that most reminds me of my brother, and so on.

I'm curious to hear what everyone else came up with for fun and thrifty gifts.

I guess it's cheaper than therapy

We're fresh back from Christmas at my dad's, where the event of the evening was my brother's brand new Wii (I got a Kitchenaid mixer in cobalt blue, which is stinking rad but a whole lot less fun for the whole family to enjoy).

Now, I've never been one for video games, not least because the controllers make my hands ache something fierce (I have a medical excuse for this, really), but the Wii is cool. I was actually able to play. We plugged in Wii boxing and went at it.

Watching everyone flail around was hysterical, and by the end of the first round, my dad and brother were both breaking a serious sweat. By the end of the second, they were red in the face and breathing hard, and these are both very fit, very athletic guys. My brother boxed my husband, my dad boxed my stepmom, I boxed my husband and brother--it was quality family time of the very strangest sort.

My first match ended up being against my husband, which was disconcerting because the characters are configured to actually look like the players, and Mitch's looked remarkably like him. But we got to playing--and I absolutely schooled him. Sure, he was still figuring out to block with the controllers and he won the next match, but I'm not sure he ever even landed a punch that first match--he went down and never got up. It was amazing, really. (I warned him that this bit of info was making its way to the blog, and he assured me that his dignity would survive intact.)

Let's just say that I'm not used to playing video games, and I'm definately not used to winning, so this, my friends, was a good night.

Order of Festivities

This year is busy as always, but somehow I feel like Mitch and I are finally getting the hang of this "four Christmases in three days" schedule. Our craziest year by far featured no less than five dinners within 24 hours (two Christmas Eve, three Christmas Day), none of which were our own, at our own house. Last year marked the first time we had our own stockings, and this year marks our first official Christmas breakfast--complete with guest. Our weekend looks like this:

Friday night. My dad's birthday dinner. We put 55 candles on an 8" layer cake and then lit them all. We call it the "birthday inferno," because it's just that dramatic--the cake radiated heat and everything, and when Dad blew them out he splattered wax all over the table. It was rad.

Last night. Carolling/dinner/candlelit liturgy at church. This was great fun, not least because there was a complete overdose on Christmas carols and an honest-to-goodness hayride through the York neighborhood. The church looked gorgeous, the food was delicious, the kids were adorable (and hysterically funny) as they sang "Silent Night" and "Away in the Manger"--also, I got to sing soprano in a quartet ("O Magnum Mysterium"). The whole evening was a whole lot of fun.

Tonight (Christmas Eve). Christmas at my dad's, with my aunt, uncle and two cousins. Food! Family! Presents! No birthday candles, though.

Tomorrow morning. Breakfast and stockings at our house. Eggs, grits and coffee are on the menu, and our friend Manis will be joining us for the morning. I mentioned that the cats have stockings this year, and I have it on good authority that Santa's bringing them Fancy Feast, bizzy balls and some crazy toy that looks like a huge fluorescent fur ball with arms. That should be entertaining.

Tomorrow midday. Mitch's family celebration. More family! food! and presents! This one seems to get bigger and bigger every year. The niece and nephew are back in town, so that'll be fun--I always seem to end up playing cars and hanging out with the little ones rather than sitting around having sophisticated adult conversation.

Tomorrow evening. Dinner at my mom's. This one marks the offical closing of the Christmas season with the last round of food, family and presents (and probably a Christmas nap, at some point)--it will be lovely.

So, that's the madness of our Christmas weekend. Mercifully, all our family lives close by so we don't have to brave the roads (though I did brave the express lane at Haggen's this morning, and that was equally scary), and I'm excited to see everyone.

May you all have a wonderful holiday! Merry Christmas.

The aforementioned stockings

(However, my mom did take pity on us this year and she quilted some beautiful new stockings for the bookshelf that have since replaced the Goodwill felt stockings. This picture was taken to accompany the earlier entry, but sadly was only just now uploaded onto my computer. I posted it anyway.)

No, really, this book doesn't have pictures

This weekend, we baby-sat our niece and nephew for a few hours on Saturday night. While trying to select a book to read to Kaitlyn, the younger (two-and-a-half), she shook her head at my choice, which featured bears in tutus, and instead pulled Claudius the God off my bookshelf and dropped it in my lap. "This one!" She said, and grinned.

To her credit, she let me read almost half a page out loud before hauling me off to play "Find the Kitty" (Sparrow spent the entire evening under the bed, in fear of this very game).

Thanksgiving: an overview

Wednesday: I drive down to Seattle to pick up my brother from UW. We arrive back in Bellingham safely and head over to my mom's, where Mom and I make desserts (for her, French apple pie; for me, chocolate cheesecake). Mom puts her pies in the oven before realizing that she forgot to add vanilla, and later, as I'm measuring vanilla into my cheescake, the top of the bottle pops off and drops several tablespoons of vanilla into the batter. I test the batter; it tastes like alcohol. We throw it away and start over.

Thursday: I wake up with a pounding headache. Despite a shower and a cup of tea, I go back to bed and do not get up until 11, at which point I inform Mitch (from beneath several blankets, both cats and a satin eye pillow) that I don't think I'll be making it to the Rosenburg dinner at noon. He goes without me, but does bring our friend Manis, whose family lives in Florida, and Mitch makes jokes about Manis being my stand-in. They are well received.

By three o'clock, I finally manage to open my eyes, though I still haven't made it successfully out of bed. Mitch and Manis return to collect me for my Mom's Thanksgiving--I roll out of bed, put on a skirt and somehow make it out the door (feeling much, much better, though still not great). The house is full of guests and merriment, and it is a lovely evening, though one punctuated by naps on my part. What little I manage to eat of the food is delicious. We all go home full and sleepy.

Friday: The last dinner, at my Dad's house, is wonderful. I make a puddle on my plate of all my food and eat it forkful by mushy forkful--after nearly two weeks of being sick, my appetite is finally back nearly to where it should be and everything tastes amazing. My brother plays Zelda in the family room after dinner and we watch him until we can't stand it anymore. We decorate the Christmas tree. Dad tries to make five whiskey sours with a bottle of whiskey and one lemon, until my step-mom scrutinizes his recipe and decides that there has to be more to whiskey sours than that. As it turns out, there is. The result is tasty and festive, though I don't think I ever actually finish mine.

Apparently "snoggy" is not a real word

In my family, if you go into a store full of breakable things, it's a "kabosh" store. If a parent says "kabosh," you put your hands in your pockets--it means "look, don't touch."

In my family, when we go out for frozen yogurt, we say we're going out for "frozen whopper."

If your nose is stuffed up from a cold and you're breathing like Darth Vader, we say that you're "snoggy." I only recently realized that snoggy isn't a word outside my familial lexicon when I dropped it in conversation with my boss--I mentioned that I was feeling much better, thank you, though still a bit snoggy, and she wrinkled her nose and asked, "Still a bit what?"

In my family, when we say grace before a meal, we call it "dee-doos"--even in public places. When Mom and I go out to lunch, she grabs my hands, says "Let's say dee-doos," and launches into our family grace: "Thank you for our food and for each other, Amen." Like that, in one breath. Anyone who's eaten with our family more than three times knows about this and has our "dee-doos" committed to memory.

For a long time I did not think this odd, our deedoos, and then somewhere around high school I did, and I protested, because I wasn't into all that God stuff, and then I was into the God stuff but I still protested because I wasn't sure how sincere a prayer "Thank you for our food and for each other, Amen" could really be when you rattled it off every evening without thinking. At some point, though, I realized that it's a great prayer, concise, to the point, even if we don't open with "Heavenly Father" or "Dear Lord," because we know (and He knows) to whom we are speaking.

We have said this for as long as I can remember, and like "snoggy," "kabosh" and the word "dee-doos," I have no idea where it came from, but the more I say it the more I love saying it--the chorus of our voices, the squeeze of hands at the end, the reminder that, yes, the meal is lovely, but so is the company. So:

Thank you for our food, and for each other. Amen.

Stitch 'N' Bitch: The Frat Boy Edition

My brother has taken up knitting. Several girls and the mothers of his frat buddies think this is adorable; some of his frat buddies have asked him for lessons. My friend Sarah thinks it very progressive of him to throw off the stereotype of knitting as a predominently feminine endeavor, and to knit proudly, secure in his own manhood and the knowledge that he has broken right through the gender barrier.

As for me, the sight of my brother, cross-legged in an armchair, watching back-to-back episodes of Rome while knitting a full length, Husky-colored scarf struck me as hilarious. We passed an afternoon like that: my brother, knitting; I, with my notebook in my lap, doodling as I watched TV; my dad, in his impressive black leather armchair, making a comment every ten minutes or so about my brother's new (cheap, Ross is quick to point out) hobby.

Of course, I'll give you some context. My brother, Ross, is well over six-feet tall. He's blonde, and dashingly handsome--twinkling blue eyes, strong jaw-line, straight white teeth, the works. He's athletic, but also he's artistic, and he learns quickly, so if he put his mind to knitting, well, he'll make a damn good knitter, just like he paints great murals and plays a mean sax and draws these incredible colored pencil drawings. Basically, he puts the rest of us to shame.

So I put my order in right away for a scarf in Gryffindor colors (and I got one! It's lovely), on the condition that he do mine last, so it's the best. Not that I'm competitve. Really.

He swore that knitting was a way to make heartfelt Christmas gifts on a budget, and that he'd drop it as soon as the holiday passed, but now he's trying to get my friend Sarah, champion knitter that she is, to teach him how to make a hat, but when her involvement in our little Stitch 'N' Bitch (they could stitch, and I could do the bitching) fell through, Ross figured he'd teach me how to knit instead.

And so we passed an afternoon like this: watching back-to-back episodes of Arrested Developement while Ross knitted a lovely cream-colored scarf and I tried my hand at a navy blue mess. Ah, quality time.