Wednesday, December 26, 2012

What I want to remember | Christmas 2012

This year I want to remember E coming home with $50 of supplies to brine a $3 turkey. I want to remember the smell of smoke wood from our peach tree every time he opened the back door to check on the bird. I want to remember Gram EV in her green fleece, looking healthy after her recent surgery. Cousins, playing together on the landing and then having conversations over dinner. Uncle Ron telling me how he uses a pink teddy bear for his target in archery practice. Three different soups. I want to remember a huge nap on Christmas Eve, more of Auntie Anne's "moonshine" (a little too much more this year... I need to pace myself better when drinks are made of champagne and liqueur!), more soup, glowing snowmen place cards  and a seat on the good couch.  Gram's Irish Cream and mom's homemade fudge. I want to remember bouncing nephews who couldn't stop jumping onto the trash bags like they were full of leaves. Henry, reading a book under the tree. Our whole family, in new robes. I want to remember how happy I was that I didn't have to wrap when I got home on Christmas Eve, but how late E was up fixing things up for the kids. Waking up at 3:30 because I was so excited for the kids I couldn't stand it. Quiet Christmas at home, the familiarity and comfort of our time as a foursome. Santa, leaving the fireplace door open. Driving to K's house, waking her up. Cinnamon rolls. Grandpa Norm in his Hawaiian hat. More cousins. Skylanders galore. A new camera. A drive up the hill in the pouring rain with an industrial air compresser tied to the truck. Elizabeth saying "what happened to TV?" Deer out the back window as we warmed ourselves by the fire. An inflatable, remote-controlled shark. Cornish pasties and appetizers. A new electric toothbrush. Unpacking from my trip on Christmas day. The monkeys, tucked into new loft beds. Cats. A snoring dog. Hugs, under flannel sheets.

Grandma Lila and Grandpa Ed's house 2012Scratchers and shrimp cocktailAunt Anne's gift to the poor Partingtons whose mother/wife won't let them eat hydrogenated oils in their peanut butter.IMG_7611IMG_7614IMG_7617IMG_7618IMG_7626IMG_0015IMG_0026IMG_0030

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