I couldn’t wait to get into the kitchen yesterday and start baking. I really thought I’d get more done than I did, but I was happy with the results. I decided to make the Appalachian Gingerbread I saw on YouTube. Actually, the video was originally posted on TikTok. I don’t know if you’ve seen many TikTok videos, but they are only sixty seconds long. Try to recite an entire recipe along with the video in just sixty seconds. She talks really, really fast! But, I was determined.
There was a time in my life when I was fussy about my surroundings. I mean, I grew up in a tiny little house and spent as much time as I possibly could out at my grandma’s farm. I was used to just having the basics...nothing fancy. And while I was a doctor’s wife for twenty years, I can’t say my kitchen was extravagant. Big, yes...tons of cabinets and storage for days. But it certainly wasn’t like some of the kitchens the other doctor’s wives got to cook in.
I grew up five blocks from the Ohio River. The soundtrack of my life was the constant background noise of heavily laden trains and tugboats pushing barges up and down the river. Their cargo varied from coal to sand and gravel to gasoline and chemicals. Honestly, you never knew what dangers lurked just a few blocks away when you lay sleeping in your bed on those hot summer nights. The toots of the barges signaling the locks...the locks signaling back when it was ok to move forward.
Ok...I know you’re supposed to let fruitcake age. Wrapping it in cheesecloth soaked with the liquor of your choice acts as a deterrent to spoiling and allows the flavors of the ingredients to mellow and refine. Yeah, right. I made it about 28 hours and I had to cut into one of those little mini loaves.
The first day of holiday baking was a huge success. After a relaxing start to the day and enjoying my morning coffee, I got to work in the kitchen. I grew up in the ‘50s and ‘60s when the obligatory holiday fruitcake came to our house...usually as part of my dad’s Christmas bonus package. Fruitcakes back then came in these really great heavy-duty tins embossed with festive Victorian holiday scenes. These tins often went on to become the button boxes many of us remember sifting through at our grandmother’s homes.
It took much longer than I expected to get the house decorated this year. I really wanted to have things done by Halloween because I...like many this year...wanted the joy of twinkly lights. It’s really been a hard year and I wanted the lift that an early Christmas would bring. So, I set my sights for Thanksgiving which came and went with nothing more than piles of papers and books around the foot of my recliner.
I know many who are approaching this as their first Christmas without their loved one. Those “firsts”...and sometimes the “seconds” are really tough. Watching everyone happy when you feel such pain and longing inside is so hard to take. It stirs so many emotions in you. By the time I reached the first Christmas without Mr. Virgo, he had been gone over nine months. While I still suffered agonizing sadness, I was also experiencing an emotion that shocked me.
When Daughter #1 married in the summer of 1995, I had no idea what an integral part her new family would play in my life. Just five years after we met, these lovely people helped me through a very painful divorce and lifted me up from the fall. Then, years later when Mr. Virgo passed, they took me into their home and loved on me till I could stand up again. They nursed me when I was sick. They welcomed me with my campers and played host to countless “camping trips” in their driveway. They love my daughter the way I love their son. We are as close to being related as we can be without actually sharing DNA.
This past Sunday, I wrote a piece about trying to find my “Merry Mojo”. I just couldn’t quite put my finger on what was wrong with me, but I was certainly suffering a decided loss of motivation. It’s odd, really. From the moment I started teaching myself to bake the perfect loaf of sourdough to the moment I lifted the last batch of jars from the canner, I was as busy as I have ever been. Busier than I’ve been in a long time, really. As Brene Brown says, “We are so busy that the truth of our lives can’t catch up.” So much truth there.
We’re being exceedingly careful when we venture out shopping. We try to time our trips to the store when we are least likely encounter large crowds. Just about every state in the country is experiencing a large surge in Covid cases and we are bound and determined to not become statistics. It’s not easy to dodge crowds at this time of year, so we’ve taken to buying in bulk at Sam’s and limit exposure by limiting the trips themselves.
