Gingerbread Security
You would have thought I was a walking jar of peanut butter.
Golden fur in a blur, caught mid-jump by an uncontrollable case of the wiggles demanding four scrambling legs to submit to gravity, paw pads and trimmed claws against the hardwood. There are few things more gratifying than a dog's greeting. Particularly when they're your nephews.
This past weekend we were blessed to travel to the new D household and spend the weekend rallying for Christmas! We (well Nick and I while our impressively skilled-in-other-areas spouses observed) prepped an authentic Italian concoction by our favorite straight-from-Italy chef Pasquale Sciarrapa. Garlic and parsley, asiago and simmering tomatoes, Nick and I held down our professional kitchen (Nick even dutifully shouting "BEHIND!" like he was under Gordon Ramsay's command), Lauren took the garlic bread by storm and kept up Michael Buble's accompaniment, and Jonathan upheld his position as official quality control and left the counter aglow with dishes to rival a Dawn commercial.
Beau and Boomer maintained the cleanliness of the arena ensuring not even a crumb littered the floor. (See more of these two fuzzballs @beau__watch on IG!)
Lauren and I then prepared the Gingerbread Houses for their HGTV-worthy transformations, arranged the potential roof shingles, sugary mortar, lawn ornaments, and edible Christmas decor (a motley crew of gummy bears, sugar beads, royal icing, foil-wrapped chocolates, and peppermint varieties). Nick and Jonathan retrieved the only acceptable dessert to our molto buono meal, Fox Meadows ice cream (candy cane for me!!), and upon their return we divided and conquered like Joanna and Chip to build our Claus-approved masterpieces.
The D house boasted a shimmering, stained-glass roof, boughs of holly over the doors and resting atop the window sills, candles aglow inside, and a first-class peppermint security representative to screen potential greeters at the front entrance of their very literally sweet mobile home.
The G house featured a Haribo-strong roof built for North Pole snow, frosted window panes, a gilded gazing ball, and a roaring fire to glisten against our gold-plated front door. (We excused our snowman security guard as he more closely represented Jack Torrance than he did Frosty.)
We put on our Christmas pajamas from mom, captured the furry toddlers, lit the fire on the big-screen (Netlfix win!), and hoped for the best results from my camera's self timer (resting against a precariously-stacked tower of books and a throw pillow). Successful sibling Christmas PJ photo accomplished, and then a (very lethargic) viewing of Elf to replace the roaring fire.
The next morning we were awoken by the same joyful scurrying paws we were greeted by the previous afternoon. Winter hovering silent, soft, and gray over Lancaster County, we piled hair atop our heads, traded our PJs for sweats and leggings, and waited with the growing crowd just down the road for breakfast.
Our plates reflected our morning mindsets: Nick: when in Rome, well, Brickerville, you get the biscuits (helloo they're homemade) and scrapple, Jonathan: out to breakfast? Please hand me the closest thing you have to a dessert menu, Lindsay: I like to pretend my spinach, onions, and tomatoes detracts attention away from the hollandaise sauce atop my poached eggs, and Lauren: classic will never fail you (and neither will bacon!). We then completed our sibling weekend with football, food, more family, and my other fuzzy newphew (@harvard_b_golden on the gram!).
I recall being irritated once with Nick as a child for some negligible reason. My mom listened to my childish gripe, and responded that one day Nick would be one of my best friends. Sure enough, like with most things, Mom's claim rings true.
As an adult, I have come to realize how rare a gift this is. Nick is one of my best friends. Our schedules are often amiss, but I can always count on him to answer a phone call. I might have to arm myself from his scathing wit, but if you want well-intended honesty, you won't ever hear a lie from him. His humor is that kind that could draw laughter from a rock. (I recall one movie theater adventure in which a character did something mildly amusing, undoubtedly placed in the script without much thought, a dismissible action. The theater responded with silent bemusement, Nick, however, somehow found so much humor in this that he erupted into a laughter that spread like an Arizona fire across the cinema.) The care he takes in his marriage, with his new home, and in his work ethic is a sight to behold and admire. We are all still learning, building, and dreaming, but there is a foundation there stronger than the royal icing on those gingerbread houses and more comforting than Christmas pajamas. Our parents have given us countless gifts, but, in this season especially, we are all even more grateful for each other, the new siblings and "children" we've added, and the less furry ones we hope to add in the future.
Traditions are only as strong as the loving support behind them. I look forward with hopes of embarking on more than another two decades of Christmas pajamas, gingerbread houses, and movies with a sleeping family beneath the glow of that evergreen tree.
Romans 12:5
Golden fur in a blur, caught mid-jump by an uncontrollable case of the wiggles demanding four scrambling legs to submit to gravity, paw pads and trimmed claws against the hardwood. There are few things more gratifying than a dog's greeting. Particularly when they're your nephews.
This past weekend we were blessed to travel to the new D household and spend the weekend rallying for Christmas! We (well Nick and I while our impressively skilled-in-other-areas spouses observed) prepped an authentic Italian concoction by our favorite straight-from-Italy chef Pasquale Sciarrapa. Garlic and parsley, asiago and simmering tomatoes, Nick and I held down our professional kitchen (Nick even dutifully shouting "BEHIND!" like he was under Gordon Ramsay's command), Lauren took the garlic bread by storm and kept up Michael Buble's accompaniment, and Jonathan upheld his position as official quality control and left the counter aglow with dishes to rival a Dawn commercial.
Beau and Boomer maintained the cleanliness of the arena ensuring not even a crumb littered the floor. (See more of these two fuzzballs @beau__watch on IG!)
What a team!
Lauren and I then prepared the Gingerbread Houses for their HGTV-worthy transformations, arranged the potential roof shingles, sugary mortar, lawn ornaments, and edible Christmas decor (a motley crew of gummy bears, sugar beads, royal icing, foil-wrapped chocolates, and peppermint varieties). Nick and Jonathan retrieved the only acceptable dessert to our molto buono meal, Fox Meadows ice cream (candy cane for me!!), and upon their return we divided and conquered like Joanna and Chip to build our Claus-approved masterpieces.
The D house boasted a shimmering, stained-glass roof, boughs of holly over the doors and resting atop the window sills, candles aglow inside, and a first-class peppermint security representative to screen potential greeters at the front entrance of their very literally sweet mobile home.
Our plates reflected our morning mindsets: Nick: when in Rome, well, Brickerville, you get the biscuits (helloo they're homemade) and scrapple, Jonathan: out to breakfast? Please hand me the closest thing you have to a dessert menu, Lindsay: I like to pretend my spinach, onions, and tomatoes detracts attention away from the hollandaise sauce atop my poached eggs, and Lauren: classic will never fail you (and neither will bacon!). We then completed our sibling weekend with football, food, more family, and my other fuzzy newphew (@harvard_b_golden on the gram!).
As an adult, I have come to realize how rare a gift this is. Nick is one of my best friends. Our schedules are often amiss, but I can always count on him to answer a phone call. I might have to arm myself from his scathing wit, but if you want well-intended honesty, you won't ever hear a lie from him. His humor is that kind that could draw laughter from a rock. (I recall one movie theater adventure in which a character did something mildly amusing, undoubtedly placed in the script without much thought, a dismissible action. The theater responded with silent bemusement, Nick, however, somehow found so much humor in this that he erupted into a laughter that spread like an Arizona fire across the cinema.) The care he takes in his marriage, with his new home, and in his work ethic is a sight to behold and admire. We are all still learning, building, and dreaming, but there is a foundation there stronger than the royal icing on those gingerbread houses and more comforting than Christmas pajamas. Our parents have given us countless gifts, but, in this season especially, we are all even more grateful for each other, the new siblings and "children" we've added, and the less furry ones we hope to add in the future.
Romans 12:5
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