A Luminous Halo

"Life is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged; life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end." --Virginia Woolf

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Location: Springfield, Massachusetts, United States

Smith ’69, Purdue ’75. Anarchist; agnostic. Writer. Steward of the Pascal Emory house, an 1871 Second-Empire Victorian; of Sylvie, a 1974 Mercedes-Benz 450SL; and of Taz, a purebred Cockador who sets the standard for her breed. Happy enough for the present in Massachusetts, but always looking East.

Monday, December 25, 2006

Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve was very quiet this year at the Emory House. We were still picking up after Thanksgiving, for one thing. Amir helped me decorate the tree and string a few lights and some greenery up the main staircase. I have the apparently old-fashioned habit of decking my halls pretty close to Christmas Day, and leaving everything up until Epiphany.

The Christmas season has traditionally been an excuse for me to go on a baking spree. Haven't really done that since buying this house. I thought maybe this would be the year, but I've been far too busy with writing projects. (Not complaining!) Maybe next year. My usual lineup is: gingerbread men and ladies, baklava, jan hagel, date pinwheels, chocolate crinkles, bourbon balls, wreath cookies, florentines, and meringue mushrooms. All taste amazing, except for the wreath cookies, which are disgusting, but the boys love them and always insist on them.

And maybe on some future Christmas, they'll get them. I've even been known to make a gingerbread house that lights up, but it would take a grandchild to resurrect that urge. Or my own catering business. Neither one of those is on the horizon.

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