Christmas is almost here! In only a few short days, the wrapping paper will be crumpled (or saved for another year), feasting will commence, and DVDs received as gifts will be playing as the long holiday weekend passes by. I’m fairly happy with the homemade gifts I have put together. (Spoiler alert: you might get one of these, but I’m not saying who…)
- Grapefruit Thyme Sugar Scrub
- Vintage Button Patchwork Pin Cushions
- Bourbon Pecan Pralines
- Cranberry Orange Biscotti
- Mocha Almond Biscotti
- Brown Sugar Almond Cookies
- Peppermint Fudge
- Fabric of the month calendar
Here is a list that I did not get to (a little overreaching on my part):
- Recycled Sweater Felted Hats
- Felted Christmas Ornaments
- Flannel Pajama Pants
- Mix CDs
What I did do over the last few days was enjoy an incredible weekend with RJR during Philadelphia’s storm of the century. It was one of those rare moments in time where everything comes together just when you least expect it.
The snow came down in powdery flakes on Saturday while we worked together on a presentation for teen girls at my job. We helped my staff unpack a u-haul full of gifts for children in the after school program. And, we made our way through the snow packed streets to return several girls safely home after the training.
Left the car to be buried under white blankets Saturday evening and ventured forth into the magical night to land at Local 44. Pints in hand, we settled in for a lengthy conversation ranging from thoughts on sustainability, our families, being Catholics in America, politics, and more. The pub began to fill up with happy snow covered neighbors. A few nods hello from across the room gave me such a feeling of being right where I was supposed to be. For that night, everyone was a kid again, coming in from sledding with red cheeks and noses. A dark porter or stout stood in for the steaming mug of cocoa.
I might not have made my soundtrack for the season, but that didn’t stop RJR. His fantastic collection of songs includes some standouts that became the backdrop for the blizzard adventures.
The Grand Archives “Sleepdriving” captured the season’s sights and scents:
Snow fell thick and small
It buried a starlit fog
You remembered it all
I’m sleepdriving away
Metal and mold, bourbon and clove
Mirrors and smoke, yesterday’s clothes
I’m sleepdriving away
Eyes through your window, I stare out
And some, someday we’ll be too old
Cold will ache with making you jaw
You’re only as old as you say that we are
I’m sleepdriving away
The trunk of the car filled with all that we own
This old Pontiac’s starting to feel like a boat
I’m sleepdriving away
Eyes through your window I stare out
And some, someday we’ll be too old
It’s nearly dawn, your motel home
The shades were drawn to hide the storm
Without a sound, TV glow
The blankets tied around our throats
Swirling round, the light above
Outside the crows were waking up
It’s nearly dawn
Motel home was nearly gone
No sleep at all
Outside, those crows
In life, oh noes
Frozen roads and run
Sleepdriving away
Perhaps these lyrics from “Home” by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros sum up the weekend best:
Home, Let me come Home
Home is Whenever I’m with you
Home, yes I am Home
Home is wherever I’m with you