CRUMPETS

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This morning Henry and I were woken by a ginger haired British child climbing on the couch cushions telling her mother “Mum, I simply cahn’t eat an entire crumpet!”.

Merry Christmas Eve!

The pair of us got up and prepared some coffee and breakfast (eggs for Henry; I myself thought an entire crumpet sounded lovely).  I deconstructed our couch cushion fort and we distracted Sophia while Erin did some secret elf work in her room.  Henry, overjoyed to have someone who was eager and flexible enough to join in on the acrobatics set to work teaching her some new moves.  The two of them played some chess and we all played some games of catch that involved numbers and names and extra stuffed animals.

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A whole crew of us set out to go to a large market, a Christmas tradition for Maya and Sophia so Henry and I had a chance to find some small gifts for the family.  We walked with Sophia a bit and felt conspicuous, like a fraudulent ginger family.  We stopped for (more) coffee and a hot chocolate before making the trip home.

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After a little breather at their home, the family headed back out for more Christmas traditions while Henry and I set out to make some pecan pie.  After mixing together the crust dough I finally got a hold of my brother and had a nice chat while he was up at the ski hill.  We hung up and Henry instinctively got up to hug me right before I started crying.  As warm and wonderful as Erin and Dave’s home is and as much as I love having this adventure with Henry and sharing our first Christmas together, I miss my family.

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view from the grocery store…casual

It was right about then that the family returned so we put away pie supplies while Erin started making yet another amazing dinner.  We found three shallow pie tins and prepared everything to put in once the salmon was cooked.  It was a tight fit but they all made it in and we sat down to eat.  Almost through dinner I finally got in contact with my dad and was able to have a quick chat with everyone before Dave informed me that the pies were burning.  Thankfully, the best part about pecan pie is that “burnt” really just means caramelized pecans.  They weren’t quite as pretty, but pretty doesn’t have anything to do with taste.

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a very blurry photo of my three pies

Henry was finally able to get in touch with his parents and they skipped for a bit while I wrapped our presents for the family—a job I somewhat insisted on as usually back home I’m given a large pile of gifts from everyone to wrap.  I spent some time wondering if our parents minded that the pair always seemed to be on the other end of every conversation and then got lost down the hole of wondering what was going to happen when we got back and introducing him to my family and how my brother and dad’s aversions to chewing sounds was about as bad as mine and how usually we spend this night eating a huge meal in the wrench museum while it snowed outside.  Then I was asked to show a pie to Laurie so I snapped out of it, picked the prettiest one to bring in and showed it off before taking it back to the kitchen and offering some to Erin and Dave.

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After their video chat it was pretty late but we settled in the lounge with Erin to eat some pie, catch the end of White Christmas and catch up on my knitting.  (I was trying to make a scarf for Henry’s Christmas present but we agreed not to exchange presents and it’s taken me far too long to get any progress on it.)  Erin retired for the night and Henry and I set out the presents and Christmas gnome before falling asleep ourselves, well after midnight.

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