I hope your day was filled with cheer and lots of food to last you till the New Year. And may the angels now rest from keeping a watchful eye over the gifts, being safely delivered by mothers and fathers the world over after long hours of labour. :)

Sorry for the watermark. As much as I don’t like watermarks, I’ve been advised to put them on my photography (in fact I ought to be putting a watermark on all my pics, not just the ones I like). Anyway, these cookies were made by Pascale. She loves to bake and cook. Besides making the cookies today, she helped Olivier prepare the Bouillabaisse for our Christmas Eve dinner.

Usually when one lives in the Northern Hemisphere during the Christmas season they dream of going some place warm. Unless of course they are avid skiers or snowboarders. Me, I’m not a skier nor a snowboarder, but I still wanted to go some place cold. This year I wanted to go to Alaska. But would you know it, the family opted to stay home. Guess their idea of fun doesn’t include freezing cold temperatures or four hours of daylight. Not my idea of fun either but I thought the experience of the Northern Lights would at least override the negatives.

Now if I had Christmas my way I would be sewing underwear for my children like my mother did. I’m joking of course. There are only two gifts I can remember from my childhood: my mother’s cotton underwear with the big crouch, and my father’s doll. My father rarely asked us what we wanted for Christmas so I’ll always remember this gift. I wanted a Barbie doll. Christmas day rolled by and would you know it, he presented me with a big fat baby doll. I said, “Dad, this ain’t no Barbie doll!” And he said, “Well, it’s a doll, and a doll is a doll!” Little did I know that that response would be a hereditary one. And probably why Olivier has taken over the gift giving.

Olivier asks the children during the year what it is they would like and that’s what they get for Christmas. This year Pascale wanted an iPod so that’s what she’ll be getting for Christmas. She’s been dreaming of it for six months. Most folks are surprised when I tell them this seeing as their own children can have what they want whenever they want. I have no other answer for why we like torturing our children other than seeing the looks on their faces on opening their gifts. Although the thought of sewing them my mother’s cotton bloomers has crossed my mind. And I’m all for making lasting impressions you know.