It’s Christmas, the traditional celebration, as always.
This year we went down south to celebrate with family. All of them live in the south of Winterland. We’re the only ones who moved away.
My father had bought a Christmas tree this year. When I was a kid, we used to steal a tree in the forest. We put on our skis, brought a saw and an axe, cut down the most beautiful little pine we could find and pulled it back home. Not anymore. Even my father is buying the Christmas tree now.
(My father is a cool guy; retired teacher and enthusiastic cross-country skier and writer. He has written his own Christmas song, both the lyrics and the melody. He plays harmonica but he can’t read sheet music. I have to tell more about him some time.)
The meal on Christmas Eve is traditional, but varying around the country. We’re alternating between the sheep rib of the west coast (most years), and the pork rib of the south east (some years), depending on who we’re with.
This Christmas Eve we had sheep rib, dried and salted and smoked, and then watered (to remove excess salt) and boiled and finally fried, served with mushed swede and boiled potatoes. Very good.
After the meal, we were ready for the commercial Christmas orgy (we open the presents on Christmas Eve). Tons of toys and games were unwrapped, a lot more than the kids were able to appreciate.
On Christmas Day, little boy and I watched the Christmas Mass in TV (on public broadcasting). I need to know the stuff I mock and criticize. Recently we got some new liturgy; more music, more show. We’re getting closer to the Catholics. Martin Luther wouldn’t like this, but who cares. People want to be entertained while getting their opium.
We watched the mass for half an hour. Then we zapped to cartoons, The Simpsons, little boy’s favorite. I must admit I enjoy it myself.
In the evening a heavy storm hit the west coast and the south east. We were in a party, and when we tried to drive back an hour after midnight, the roads were blocked by fallen trees. We talked to a police patrol who was out to close roads. He advised us to go to return to where we came from. So we did, and slept over.
Tonight we went back home (no problems with the flight). Tomorrow the real vacation starts. Six days of skiing in the mountains. Great.
It’s Christmas as usual >:)
(Christmas on the slopes, that's the way I like it. Took the picture one year ago, and hope it will be the same this time.)
Enjoy your skiing.
ReplyDeleteMushed Swede? Don't you get in trouble for that? (teehee) Seriously, though, sounds like a very nice tradition. I would have preferred it with the ski out for a tree, I think, but I understand unless you are back away from civilization, you really just can't. We've only ever done that when relatives lent permission on their land.
ReplyDeleteMerry Christmas. We never overdo it here, but the snow did fall in big, fluffy flakes all day. Of course, it omly did this because the weatherman predicted sunny weather all day. It's the surest way to get a white Christmas around here.
ReplyDeleteHave fun skiing.
Too little snow here to ski the Christmas vacation.
ReplyDeleteLoved hearing about your dad--yes, you simply must tell us more!
Have a wonderful time skiing, and a very happy New Year to you. :)
Alex: Thanks, we did >:)
ReplyDeleteHart: Hehe, I should have written Mashed Swede. Anyway, I guess the capital S can make the difference between a good meal and 10 years in jail >:)
Nessa: The best is when the weatherman predicts a great snowfall followed by days of sunny weather. That's winter at it's best >:)
Jayne: Thanks. We had some good skiing. New Years Eve was best with cold and sunny weather. I'll tell probably tell some funny stories about the old man some time ... he's got some really good stories >:)