Another New Year

Time can be measured in so many ways. As Jonathan Larson said in his lyrics for Rent,

525,600 minutes
how do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee.
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In 525,600 minutes -
how do you measure a year in the life?

For many of us, especially those who work with children and students, we measure the passing of time according to the school year. When Fall is nearing and the first day of a new school year arrives, we once again go on pilgrimage to our office supply stores for unsharpened pencils, undefiled spirals, fresh erasers we futilely hope we'll never need. (Yea, that picture is me in my Freshman year in HS - it was 1978. Note the bolo tie, the corduroy vest, and the curling iron skill.)

When I was young, I remember being anxious about what to wear the first day and what kinds of folders and notebooks I had. I remember those folders that were like intricate coloring pages, and using study halls (and probably actual class time, truth be told) to color them in). Fall is when the marching band would take over our lives, filling our house with practicing, keeping track of uniform pieces and memorizing music. Fall was cold nights on rickety-feeling bleachers watching football games with my best friends, laughing at the trombone and tuba players and their antics, and wondering who was going to ask whom out.

I'm not sure what Si uses to measure time. Would it be Boy Scout trips? Badges earned? Birthdays? School years? Boxes of Cheezits? I know he's not really anxious about clothing, but he does like to look "geeky cool".

He has started High School this week. I seem to be incapable of taking a decent picture in the morning, but here he is, on his second day of HS. The molecular thingy on his Tshirt is caffeine - fitting, somehow, for my coffee-drinking teen.

He's maturing so quickly now. He cooks, he actually spent time cleaning his room yesterday (after I threatened to ground him from all activities, though), and he's been so helpful all year while I've been recovering. I feel so blessed to have him.

Xmas Memories, vol 2

"Second Christmas" was at my parents' house. Again, there were great presents. I was especially excited to see my mom open the shawl I knit for her (she loves it, of course!)





To block it, I had to stretch it out on our kingsize bed (to give you some perspective), but it's so soft and light it feels like a cloud (without the damp cold).






We spent several days there since it's been months since we've been up there. We did puzzles, played games (together, and individually on their computers), and did some traditional Xmas things.





We spent time with my brother and his GF.







We made some traditional Swedish dishes (from my paternal grandfather's mother's tradition) of Sylta and Barley(made using the broth from Sylta and adding enough barley to choke a horse, then mixing in ground liver - not my kind of dish, but DH lurves it big time) DH has some good bonding time with my 'rental units by making this with them every few years.


and I made Swedish Limpa Rye Bread to go with it. I didn't use the linked recipe, but instead used one from an old cookbook Mom has from the Swedish church in town. This is about the only rye bread I enjoy. It's got a lovely sweetness from the molasses, and a bit of light tang and bouquet from the orange zest.







I also was able to get together with some old HS chums (thanks for having us all over, ma cher femme!)






And I got DH to pose with his new convertable glove/mittens. Isn't he cute? He lurves these, too, and gave them a test-run today for the annual Christmas Bird Count in the Hocking Hills.