Greetings and libations,
Welcome to a moment away from the crowds and the noise. Just a quiet spot to rest for a bit, have a cookie, share your day, vent your frustrations, trumpet your triumphs. If you step over the ginger hairball I'll begin...
We're right in the middle of that time of year when I find myself reflecting on tradition and family. I suppose I'll write a couple of long emails to my brothers this weekend. I wondered about them and worried about them during the year, but I only wrote to them a couple of times. We grew up together with Christmas as more of a cultural tradition than a religious one. After moving to Prague I learned a whole new set of Christmas carols and here I am, a godless beast, still belting out praises for the baby Jesus-- doing my best impersonation of an old crooner from the 1950's. Where appropriate I have been known to throw in a ba-ba-ba boooo.
Yes, it's a strange sort of dual life I lead.
Nothing new to a lycanthrope I suppose.
I sit here with spruce sap sticky fingers typing while Mrs. the Werelynx sweeps up the mess I and #1 Son made cutting off the bottom of the Christmas tree. I think we've decided to let the tree rest in the stand until morning before we decorate it. The limbs were all wrapped up and they'll need some time to settle before we can figure out where we can fit the decorations.
The balcony has a slightly taller than usual pile of boxes on it. The boxes are filled with cookies of course. They're sitting out there in the cool dampness getting nice and mushy-- just the way Czechs like their cookies. Reminds me of the commercials from my youth for store-bought cookies that stayed soft-- just like fresh, homemade cookies. Well, the Czechs know another method for keeping your cookies soft. Leave them outside. I'm thinking that it doesn't perhaps work too well for my old family sugar cookie recipe that we always used with our Christmas themed cookie cutters. That's one thing I did take with me when I moved from Wisconsin to the Czech Republic, the family cookie cutters. It's an odd collection of shapes and some that aren't particularly seasonal have become, in their own small way, thanks to my kids, traditional. I'm mostly talking about the dog bisquit bone-shaped cutters.
Yesterday we indulged in our traditional drag the lads out to something cultural for Christmas event. It's sort of our gift to ourselves as a family. There's a regular troupe of actors and comedians that plays at a theater downtown and each year they put on a loosely organized evening of songs and story telling with a Christmas theme. Each year they cook the traditional Czech Christmas dinner main course of fried carp right on the stage-- off to the side while the rest of the troupe regales the audience. Portions of carp with a dollop of potato salad (also traditional) are handed out to the audience. And no, there was not enough to go around.
Before the show we took the lads out shopping for a few necessities for those of us who are still growing vertically. Then we had dinner in a crowded food court where the 23 year old American woman seated to my left told her friend about the appalling habit of another friend of telling people she'd just met absolutely everything. And then this young woman seated close enough to me that I could have elbowed her in the ribs proceeded to loudly tell her friend, and any other English speaking person within several yards-- everything.
A man my age would normally have to go through a midlife crisis and a messy divorce to learn that much about a woman that young.
It's interesting how some people treat their native language as if it were a secret code when they're traveling or living abroad.
Tomorrow, after decorating our tree and eating lunch, we'll go out for a walk with friends from the neighborhood. Our destination was chosen for my benefit because there's a little restaurant-brewery only 15 minutes from here that opened earlier this year and I had not yet managed to find a suitable excuse for going there.
On Sunday we'll be going to mass at a little Hussite church like we did last year-- although I'm not sure if we've convinced the lads to join us in the pews this time.
Tonight there are raindrops that should be snowflakes clattering on the windowsill. The lads are watching BBC quiz shows on YouTube. The washing machine has just rattled its way through the final spin cycle and Mrs. the Werelynx has claimed the bathroom for a shower before heading off to bed. She got a hand cranked apple-corer/peeler/slicer device as a gift from someone at work. #2 Son put it together and tested it-- and now the smell of apple slices drying on the radiator is mingling with the piney scent of our tree and the lingering hint of the barbeque chicken I made for dinner.
Soon we'll all settle down for that long winter's nap. Nice to not have to set the alarm for tomorrow morning. Here's hoping this rain stops before our walk to the little brewery.