christmas | matching tracksuits

christmas

Rainy Holidays

Thursday 22 December 2011

We wake to a gray, foggy, and rainy morning, a day that promises only to compound the misery of trying to do anything in town. It's the kind of day that one wants to stay inside, cuddle up,

and watch the Pacific Northwest Ballet's performance of The Nutcracker.

It's almost ninety minutes of dancing, with only limited, very sporadic narration, yet the Girl sits, fascinated. "When is the Sugar Plum Fairy coming?" she asks, over and over and over, with it often coming out as "Sugar Flum Pairy."

Yet it's not all relaxing, even if two of the three of us is feeling a little less than 100%. With Christmas nearing, it's time to get to work on the Wigilia dinner -- the Christmas Eve food extravaganza. Tonight, it's pierogi z kapustą i grzybami (dumplings with cabbage and mushrooms) and uszka z grzybami (smaller dumplings -- "ears" -- with mushrooms).

We all have different jobs, with the Girl having the most fun and consequently making the biggest mess.

Magic

Tuesday 20 December 2011

Some days just seem filled with it.

A little fire, a lot of smoke, and one ends up with peppercorn-covered, smoky tenderloin magic.

A few twigs of evergreen and a sweet helper and one ends up with a charmed Christmas ornament, a mini-tree for the kitchen.

And there's always the magic of dancing.

Performance

Sunday 18 December 2011

What would a Polish Christmas season be without a gathering that included a "short artistic program" -- a skit? It seems the urge to produce amateur dramatic performances leaches into the potatoes that sustain Poles because it's simply everywhere.

Yet the idea behind such performances are among the things that keep a culture alive for centuries. It's the same creative impulse that leads to symphonies and epics.

And in a situation like the one in which K and the other area Poles find themselves, in a different land with different traditions, such performances ensure that the legacy they leave to their children will have a significant element of beets, potatoes, consonant-laden words, and songs -- a culture within a culture.

Last year's celebration is here.

Decorations

Monday 12 December 2011

The lights are all up -- at least as much as it's going to happen this year. The addition of some a few new strings of lights and a couple of illuminated nets on a should-be-removed bush are the extent of this year's lighting innovations

The tree stays much the same as last year's: the same minimalist Ikea white ornaments,

the same angel,

and a few additions: a memorial ornament from the Polish performance of last Christmas.

Christmas Decorating

Sunday 11 December 2011

A Christmas tree is an important decision: we'll pay close to fifty bucks for something that will last only a few weeks, so we have to make sure it's perfect in every way. Somehow, we manage to find the perfect tree each and every year.

The decoration process changes from year to year, though. As the Girl grows, she becomes more involved in the Christmas preparations, and she's developing some very definitive ideas about how to decorate a tree.

I'm also developing some very strong ideas about Christmas decorations. Inching along, moving the ladder innumerable times, and constantly fighting for a level ladder makes me wonder if I couldn't leave the lights up all year. Tracking down one single bad bulb that's affecting all its neighbors is just about enough to make me try a seeming gimmick.

Finally, though, the darkening sky puts an end to my light hanging -- with only one side of the house left -- and drives me inside to clean up for a family picture

and a photo session with the Girl and Baby.

All in all, a good start to the 2011 Christmas season.

St. Stephen’s Day

Monday 27 December 2010

Just before noon everyone begins heading home. Snow on the ground, wet roads, freezing conditions -- perfect weather for sandals and a drive to the mountains. As some of our guests head off to the mountains of western North Carolina, L has other priorities: a snowman.

We're lucky: the snow is wet and heavy, easily rolled into balls. Indeed, we could roll up all the snow like a gigantic carpet: it picks up snow, leaves, grass, and all.

When I was growing up in southwest Virginia, I rare saw snow, and even more rarely saw wet snow. It was most often dry, powdery snow good for skiing perhaps, but of little use to neighborhood kids wanting to create snow forts and have snow ball battles.

This snow is as easily rolled as insulation or blankets. In fact, it's almost too easy.

As K directs everyone to the front yard, we realize that carrying the growing snow balls is almost impossible.

"Roll them," K instructs simply.

Which means the snowman will be bigger than originally planned.

By this time, L has lost interest and is more concerned about whether or not she'll get to make a snow angel.

"We might be able to just before going in," I tell her. "But it makes you very wet, so we'll have to go in right after you're finished."

A tricky situation: L is sick (as seems to be the new Christmas break tradition -- three years in a row), but snow is so rare, it seems a shame to herd her back inside so quickly.

We finish up the snow man, snap a quick picture, then return to the warmth of tea and dry clothes.

The theme of warmth and tea continues through the evening: a last dinner with friends to bring the 2010 Christmas season to a close.

The familiar gender segregation returns, with the ladies in the living room, the gentlemen still at the dining table,

and the kids watching Toy Story -- probably for the tenth time for L.

Things wind down: time for children to go to bed and K and others to prepare mentally for a return to work tomorrow.

A bittersweet moment in the end: it could be the last Christmas we spend with one family, as they're contemplating a return to Poland. Maybe we'll get together next year; maybe we'll only be able to share Christmas wishes over the phone. But for now, we depart, looking forward to Friday's Polish New Year's Eve party.

Christmas 2010

Sunday 26 December 2010

“There’s a forecast of snow,” was the rumor running through the house. “It’ll be the first snow during Christmas since the early 1960’s.”

By the time the guests arrived in the late afternoon, there were flurries. The temperature stayed above freezing, but the snow and festive mood led to the only logical conclusion: toddies for everyone.

The evening continued, as did the snow and conversation.

The usual gender self-segregation gradually developed: the ladies in L’s room,

the guys in the basement, and the children moving back and forth between.

Visiting friends’ dogs and the pool table seemed to have an inordinate draw for the kids. I remember as a child the fascination I too held for the concept of billiards. It seems like the perfect kid’s game, which I guess it is: flat surface, lots of balls, purposeful collisions. Sort of like a demolition derby.

I excused myself for a few moments to take some photos of the house in snow. I tromped through the first Christmas snow in almost fifty years, thinking about the privilege inside and out, that having close friends is as rare and dear as Christmas snow in the south.

Wigilia 2010

Friday 24 December 2010

The food is prepared. The guests have arrived. The table is set. It’s time for the most-anticipated evening of the year: Wigilia, the traditional Polish Christmas Eve dinner.

It’s the thirteenth time — seven in Poland, six in the States with K — that I’ve experienced what has become the highlight of the year.

We exchange the opłatek, sharing wishes for the coming year. Variations of “May this coming year be better than this closing year,” the eternal hope of humanity, echo through the kitchen.

We begin the parade of food: two soups, dumplings stuffed with cabbage and mushrooms, fish, salads, rice, desert after desert. Tradition dictates repetition, and the menu is no different. We have the same soups every year: barszcz z uszkami (borscht with dumplings) and wild mushroom soup. We have salmon as the main fish course, this year stuffed with crab meat.

The appeal of tradition, though, is that you know what’s coming. There are no surprises. We’re comforted in the knowledge that at least this one thing has not changed, for change isn’t always positive. So while we play with the idea of switching the menu — maybe having a different fish — we always end up following tradition.

After dinner, we open gifts. When I hear about some people’s expectations for Christmas presents (suggestions to buy $2,000 rings, piles of clothes, multiple video games), I wonder what’s the point. Such a Christmas is spoiled if one doesn’t get one’s material lusts satisfied.

I often wonder how many people have such materialistic, shallow Christmas experiences: getting gifts, then retreating into solitude to play with the toys. It’s as if they’ve forsaken the real treasure of Christmas for silly trinkets.

The real treasure is family and friends gathering together to share some laughs and companionship.

Previous Years

Wigilia 2003

Wigilia 2004

Wigilia 2005

Wigilia 2006

Wigilia 2007

Wigilia 2008

Wigilia 2009

Before the Storm

Friday 24 December 2010

The day before Christmas Eve in a Polish household is always frantic. Cakes to bake, salads to make, and general culinary chaos.

The heating system dying in the morning didn't help, though. The verdict: the zoning system's main control board is malfunctioning. Cost: the part alone runs $1300. Time to make some decisions. Merry Christmas from Arzel.

In the meantime, we have baking to do. Cheese cake, for instance, requires room-temperature ingredients, a fact inconveniently forgotten by inexperienced bakers the world over.

Fortunately, we had a little helper today to get us through the tough parts. Without her valuable advice and assistance, I'm sure we would have got finished much more quickly than we did been at a complete loss.