We were blessed with a couple inches of snow today. Zeke and I went out to have a snowball fight and build a snowman. The snowman has broccoli eyes, a carrot nose, and a celery mouth. He’s wearing Dale’s hat and Gabe’s scarf. Zeke named him Goomba. The kids were released early from school, because the snow turned into freezing rain. When they got home, we all had a snowball fight. I was enjoying myself out in the snow, but I kept hearing my Dad’s voice in my head. “If you don’t shovel the driveway, the slush will freeze and you’ll have ice all winter.” My Dad’s far away in warm and sunny Arizona bothering my Aunt Cita, but I can still hear his voice in my head. Even though I know the temperature will go up tomorrow and melt all the snow, I can’t break with fundamental Meloch beliefs about furnace filters and shoveling. So, I grabbed the snow shovel and got to work. The kids then had plenty of practice trying to hit a moving target.
Today we took down all the Christmas decorations and hauled the tree to the curb. The tree still looked great. It was the nicest tree I’ve had in years. I love to go and cut down a tree for Christmas, but this year I decided that might not be the wisest idea. So, I bought one from the lot at the local nursery and was really happy with it. It had no spiders in it (An Australian decoration), and it had all it’s branches (Unheard of in Hawaii). We had a fun Christmas with my brother Mike, his wife Karin, and their children Jeremiah, Matthew and Madeline. Mike, thinking I ran my home like a military boot camp was surprised to experience game playing and candy eating at 2100. Life group habits are difficult to break. Christmas Eve is always my favorite part of Christmas. I was in for a challenge this year because Jeremiah doesn’t like chocolate cake. So, Jesus’ birthday cake had to be a new flavor. I ended up making a peppermint candy cake and everyone voted it a thumbs up. We attended the Christmas Eve candlelight service in which the Elder (Lars said he always wanted to be referred to as The Elder) instructed us to watch our children so that they didn’t tilt their candles and drip wax on the floor. The minute Zeke’s candle was lit, I watched as he tilted it and dripped wax on the floor. It is inevitable if you tell a child not to drip wax on the floor, spill that glass, run into that wall, touch that stove that they will. It’s just a part of life with kids. On Christmas Eve, the kids all played songs on the piano that they had been practicing for Christmas. We had Carol of the Bells, Rudolf, Deck the Halls, Zeke’s version of Go Tell It on the Mountain, and Hot Cross Buns (which technically is a Good Friday/Easter song. In Australia, we learned that Hot Cross Buns are essential fare on Good Friday). I thought that Dale was going to put the sound bites of the kids playing piano on the blog, but after no one complimented him on his convenient playback option, he got a little miffed. For revealing that, he’ll probably torment me with my version of Holly Jolly Christmas. I could be a reject of American Idol with that one. On Christmas Eve, we also had the Christmas story production from all the children. The production experienced a few technical difficulties and Josiah showed shades of his father when others began to tell him how best to print something out on the computer. A word to the wise: Don’t ever try to give computer advice to my husband or son. In the end, the Christmas play was a smashing success complete with multiple costume changes and sheep that looked like dogs. Josiah was the first to wake up on Christmas morning. He got up at 0230 and woke me up ripping open the wrapping paper of the present on his bed. I told him to go back to sleep, because he had 4 1/2 more hours to wait. On Christmas Day, I most enjoyed the first annual Manry vs Meloch kickball game. It was a beautiful 50 degree day and if our neighbors were hoping for a quiet Christmas, they were sorely disappointed. On Boxing Day, we went to the Smithsonian’s Air and Space museum. I heard all the languages of the world spoken there. With the dollar’s value dropping, I guess the World decided that it was a good time to visit DC. Whenever I go into a major US city, I always wonder why a Happy Meal costs 3 dollars more than it does anywhere else in America. Well, Christmas is done and we’ve put away all the ornaments that Zeke didn’t manage to break. In 2006, when I was putting away the ornaments, I was wondering where I would be unwrapping them in 2007. Hopefully, in 2008 I’ll be unwrapping the ornaments right here in Stafford with Dale at my side or at least in the room grumbling under his breath about Christmas lights that don’t work.
Dale missed all his favorite New Years Eve traditions this year. He was unable to participate in the creation of collapsing gingerbread houses and didn’t stand outside on the porch at midnight banging pots and pans and throwing confetti. He claims that being unable to participate in these traditions wasn’t too upsetting to him, but I missed him none the less. I had no one to argue with about gingerbread house structure and no one to convince that banging pots and pans really is a lot of fun. Every year for Christmas, I buy Dale a puzzle. It is one of those gifts that I really buy for myself. Sometime after Christmas, we usually start working on it. We had a puzzle from last year that we had never done, so I brought it up from the basement. When making a puzzle, I sort the pieces and Dale puts most of the pieces in place. This year, for the first time in years, I actually did the edge. The puzzle is a photomosaic of a hot air balloon. Abby has been a good trouper working on the balloon’s green stripe. However, I find myself looking at all my sorted pieces thinking: “It’s just not as much fun when he isn’t here to complete it or, for that matter, to complete us.”
Last Saturday, Josiah was invited to attend a birthday party for a girl in his class. He would not normally consider such an invitation, but it involved a movie ticket to National Treasure II and free pizza. He and his buddies (mates) agreed they would all go together thereby making it an acceptable occasion. The difficult part, of course, was the gift buying. Abby informed Josiah that the girl liked webkins, and that Josiah could purchase one at Hallmark. Abby loves Hallmark with all its bric-a brac and girly things. Josiah was a bit apprehensive when we set out. We arrived at 0855 and the store opened at 0900. We sat in the car and began to watch our fellow Hallmark shoppers. They were all men. It was the Saturday before Christmas and these men were forced to go out and find a gift for their wives. My brother-in-law Rich was shopping on Saturday, but had to finish up a few purchases on Christmas Eve. He didn’t want to break with the tradition of buying the gift and wrapping it on Christmas Eve. This year, Dale was unable to adhere to this Christmas Eve shopping tradition as a result of his distance away and the speed of the Army postal system. I received my gift weeks in advance. I will no longer be able to grumble about him always shopping on Christmas Eve. Anyway, back to Hallmark…One guy was peering intently in the window with the hopes that he could spot something before hand, so that when the clerk opened the door, he could dash in, purchase it, and make a quick get away. Another guy, who was clearly military, was walking back and forth not directly in front of the Hallmark as if to fool anyone who happened by that he wasn’t actually waiting to go in. He threw something away in the rubbish bin down the sidewalk, he wandered around on the street in front, and constantly looked over his shoulder in case a friend happened by to accuse him of Hallmark shopping. The smart guy stayed in his car and made a quick dash for the door when the clerk finally unlocked it. Josiah and I went in to join our fellow shoppers. I began to find various things and hold them up for Josiah to see. I then noticed a glaze come over his eyes and I thought of Dale. When in a store like Hallmark, Dale will wander around in a daze. He can not relate to anything in the store and the choosing becomes a torture to him. I said to Josiah, “You won’t feel comfortable giving any of these gifts will you?” He replied, “No.” To his great relief, I let him escape. So, down the sidewalk we went to the bookstore where he purchased a day to day calendar and a journal. He brought the gifts home, wrapped them, and even made a funny card. When I dropped him off in front of the movie theater, he realized to his dismay that only the birthday girl had arrived. I left him on the curb and drove away laughing as the dazed look came back over his face.
My Mother, detecting my sadness as Christmas minus Dale approaches, asked me if there was anything she could do. “Yes,” I said, “send some chocolates.” There are certain candies that are a unique part of every family’s Christmas. We grew up recieving the yearly paper sack filled with an apple, orange, peanuts, and hard candy. Most years, we shared a box of delicious Cane Lakes Sponge Candy. Each year I most looked forward to a gift from Jean Demos, a friend of my parents who worked for Fannie May candy in Chicago. She would send us a box of chocolates. I’ve been to Switzerland and Belgium and eaten at a fancy chocolate shop in Melbourne, but there is something about a box of Fannie May that always makes me smile. While my Mom was here for Thanksgiving, I was in the grocery store trying to decide between a box of chocolate from Russell Stovers or Whitmans. My Mom said to get the Russell Stovers. I replied that she had always bought Whitmans. She said that was my Father’s favorite not hers. Her Mother had always eaten Russell Stovers and she liked it better. It’s only taken her 65 years to admit it. When the box of Fannie May chocolates arrived, Zeke helped me open it and then ran through the house yelling, “Everyone! Chocolates!” There was a thunder of feet behind him. Zeke grabbed the white chocolate covered truffle and liked it so much, he went to take the other. Gabe happily ate the lemon filled chocoate and Abby, Josiah, and I divided out the caramels. Dale wasn’t here, so I ate his milk chocolate covered caramel for him. The traditional Manry candy is Peanut Butter Fudge and I am quite certain that is what my husband is missing most. His Mama used to pour out the Peanut Butter Fudge on to two buttered plates, one for the kids and one for Dale’s Daddy. After Dale joined the Army, he came home on leave and discovered that he was now given the honor of a plate of Peanut Butter Fudge to himself. Boy did Tommy John complain about that injustice. Now that we are married, our kids combine his love of peanut butter and my love of chocolate every time they eat their pancakes. Genetics is funny that way.
