Christmas, the long version . . .

I'm going to go out on a limb and say we made it through Christmas even though there are still a few minutes left.

Let's back up a day first.

Christmas Eve is full of holiday tradition with us.  The 9TS started cooking early in the morning for the Feast of the Seven Fishes.  He picked up the flag after his mother passed away.  He'd make fish chowder from dried cod.  Shrimp.  Fried smelts.  Airships.  Crabs in gravy over spaghetti.  White fish and muscles or clams.  And of course the gravy.  Rich tomato sauce full of meatballs made with beef/veal/pork, country pork ribs and sweet Italian sausage, all simmering for hours until the house smelled so delicious, everyone was drooling.  Oh, and stuffed manicotti.  The BEST stuffed manicotti. 

Last year,  my sloth was not feeling his best.  The menu was a little shorter and he mostly gave me directions from his chair but he still made the gravy and then put me in charge.  I promptly burned the gravy . . . as in we had to toss the pot afterwards.  You know, those big blue pots with white speckles.  Even a jack hammer couldn't save this ones life.  But we ate and carried on with family and had a good time.

This year, Kidlet and I have forged new traditions.  The same, just different.  We nixed the idea of all the fish.  We are not keen on things that sound like dirigibles, remind us of pig iron, or come with their own shells . . . except shrimp.  Shrimp are good.  But that left the gravy.

Long before I met the 9TS, my idea of spaghetti sauce came from a jar.  He put me straight the first time I served it to him and has been making our gravy ever since.  Until yesterday morning, I had never made a meatball in my life.

(Now it must be noted that on occasion, I have a bright idea and last year, I had my laptop on the kitchen table furiously taking notes as the gravy process proceeded.)

So there I was hand deep in ground pork, ground veal and ground beef, eggs, breadcrumbs, spices, cheese and two slices of squishy bread.  Squishy bread????  Yep, I looked again at my notes.  What the heck was squishy bread.  Well I winged it with milk sodden wholewheat and figured who would know.  I had enlisted Kidlet's moral support and she ensconced herself in one of the big leather chairs from the living room she had dragged to the kitchen . . . and was happily watching the proceedings while crocheting.

Not trusting myself, I had asked everyone and anyone about the intricacies of meatballs and the general consensus was to make them tight so I didn't end up with meat sauce instead.  Tight.  Please define tight.  At this point, Kidlet, who hates getting her hands gunky, hops up, washes her paws and starts 'tightening' up my balls.  Go Kidlet.

Now, all we could do was wait for four hours to see the results, but not without a back up plan.  I made baked ziti from bottled gravy, cooked some shrimp, made a salad and four loaves of garlic bread.  We would not starve if all went downhill . . . fast.

The results?  Damned good gravy if I do say so myself.  Craig said the balls tasted just like his dad's.  Seems I not only married an Italian, I can fake cooking like one.  Yay me.

Christmas day, the plan was for Kidlet and I to open our presents as usual, have our Christmas breakfast and then she would head back up north to spend the day with her best friend and her family.
Opening presents was fun for all, including Pippin who thought Christmas was all about him:

Under the best present ever category, Kidlet bought us two tickets to see Wicked in Orlando in March.  I have ALWAYS, wanted to see that play.  Kidlet, you are the BEST.

Under the most absurd category:  Kidlet's super socks complete with capes.  Oh yes, I did:

And the fun went on with bobble headed Yoda and Jabba the Hut and much more.

When it became time for Kidlet to get ready to leave, she got a text from Jennie, who is nine months pregnant and exhausted, could they please postpone.  Triple YAY, I got Kidlet for the entire day.  I was not especially looking forward to being alone on Christmas although I had several offers of food, wine and cheeriness.

The only problem was not enough time to get the Prime Rib in the oven for dinner, but since it was already planned for Wednesday night, no biggie, trust me, there were plenty of leftovers.

I shot off a text to Stacie to wish her Merry Christmas and she decided to join us for dinner.  Give me another huge YAY!!!!

So here's the thing.  Yes, we missed the 9TS.  Desperately.  But things worked out.  I prefer to think he was up there orchestrating the entire thing:  from the perfect gravy to Kidlet and Stacie joining in for dinner.  Well done my sloth.  Well done.