Christmas Cookie Exchange and a Keeper from the Recipe Box

I first posted this December 8th, 2007 on this blog. It is about memories of a cookie exchange. I will make these yummy cookies again this year.

Christmas Cookie Exchange

Years ago when I was teaching at Cascade Elementary in Kennewick our librarian organized a Christmas cookie exchange. The idea was greeted with enthusiasm, particularly since our staff was mostly women.  This was how it worked. Each participant chose a favorite cookie recipe, then brought an assigned amount to the exchange. Each staff member then collected a mixture of new cookies to take home. The first year we did the exchange our kindergarten teacher Joy brought these incredible cookies. It was hard to tell the exact ingredients. They were soft and buttery with hints of other flavors. I had to have that recipe. To this day I don’t know the real name for this cookie recipe. After baking them for more than twenty years I still call them Joy’s Cookies. My mom has since added the recipe to her Christmas repertoire. She refers to them as “Those Sesame Seed Cookies.”

I still have the 4x6 note card that Joy, using her perfect kindergarten teacher printing, carefully wrote out for me. At the top of the card it says “Here are those yummy cookies- Joy”.  My gift to you- those yummy cookies!

Joy’s Cookies

2 cups softened butter

1 ½ cups sugar

3 cups flour

½ cup finely sliced almonds

1 cup sesame seeds

Cream the butter and sugar. Add flour until mixed. Add sesame seeds and almonds. Divide dough into thirds. Roll and wrap in waxed paper. Chill. Cut into slices and bake at 325 for 20 minutes. Makes about 5 dozen.

Tips: Buy the sesame seeds in bulk or the cookies will cost you a fortune.

          Splurge on the almonds already sliced. If there is a way to slice them by hand, it escapes me.                                                   

          Watch the time. They burn easily depending on how thin you slice them.       

       

 I can’t say how many the recipe actually makes because Everett usually samples the first warm cookies from the oven and somebody usually samples the dough. If some burn, dogs do love them as a treat. These are perfect any time of year. For some reason I always make them at Christmas.

Christmas Memories: Look Alike Nightgowns

As I prepare for the Christmas season I am flooded with memories of holiday seasons past. This month I am going to reflect on those memories and capture the moments I remember so well in celebration of Christmas.
It is funny the little things that stick in your memory long after the event has happened. Some days I can't remember what I wore the day before, but can remember the matching pajamas from years ago.

One Christmas I think Grandma Woolum gave the whole family matching pajamas. This was before my sister was born and we lived on 14 E. Portland. I don't have any pictures of those pajamas, but I remember how special I thought it was to have matching pajamas. Grandma Woolum pulled through again a few years later after Carol was born. As you can see from the picture above only the sisters had the matching nightgowns. I guess the Crescent didn't have sets that included brothers.

I think one thing I loved about having the matching pajamas was opening them on Christmas Eve. We hardly ever got to open presents on Christmas Eve, but I guess grandma thought we needed to wear them to bed while we waited for Santa to come, so she trumped Dad when it came to present rules on Christmas Eve.

Our family never again had matching shirts, sweatshirts, or pajamas for any occasion. Perhaps we start up the tradition again!

Thanks to John Updike

This poem spoke to me today about how moving into winter does represent a certain sense of loss. He also referred to the beauty of the bones of the garden. Yes, the year is old, but yet we have a reason to say thanks.

November

by John Updike

The striped and shapely
Maple grieves
The loss of her
Departed leaves

The ground is hard
As hard as stone.
The year is old.
The birds are flown.

And yet the world,
Nevertheless,
Displays a certain loveliness--


The beauty of
The bone. Tall God
Must see our souls
This way, and nod.

Give thanks: we do,
Each in his place
Around the table
During grace.

Moving Into Winter

Our seasons have a natural rhythm that is determined more by temperature, length of days, and precipitation than the dates on a traditional calendar. When the days grow shorter I feel like winter is quickly approaching.

Moving into winter means not seeing the gardens during the week. It is dark when I leave and dark when I arrive home. Even if many plants are done blooming and the trees have lost their leaves, I like the stark beauty of the bones of the garden. It gives me something to look forward to on the week-ends. There are always images to capture on a cold winter day.

Moving into winter also means beginning a natural hibernation. I wrap up in warm blankets as the day moves into night. I take more naps.  Winter is the time to rest the gardens and rest the body and soul. We need winter like other animals for our own hibernation. We need our own sabbath.

Moving into winter also means sipping hot soups, craving comfort food like meatloaf and macaroni and cheese, and enjoying a warm drink at the day's end. Winter is pumpkins, squash, and apples saved from the tree mixed up into a homey crisp while sitting by the fire.

Moving into winter means tackling that pile of books that have been waiting to be read. It is time to find those writing inspirations in a journal lost during the fall, time to organize photos, and get things in order. Winter is wool socks, warm sweaters, flannel pajamas. Winter is cats each finding a spot to curl up and sleep and the dogs quietly snore in front of a fire.

Each season draws me in for different reasons. This year as winter is approaching, I am reminded to slow down, rest, reflect, revive myself, and be warm. 

Leaves and More Leaves

After our short visit with snow the leaves reemerged with their mix of autumn colors. I even discovered a rose still blooming. We may move leaves off the sidewalk, but we have started letting the rest work into the ground all winter and I think that has helped our soil.

No matter which plant or tree a leaf comes from, it always holds unique beauty. This one is from a oak leaf hydrangea.

The flowering crab apple tree has a distinctive orange color the her leaves.

The front walk is a mix of many trees created a mosaic of colors.

One single leaf from the cherry tree ((I think!). Today I am thankful for the beauty of autumn once again.

Kindness

I love poetry and often return to those poems that have stayed with me for a long time. "Kindness' is one of those poems. I had a very upsetting experience today, but when I returned to this poem it helped me make sense of my situation.

Kindness

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you every where
like a shadow or a friend.

~ Naomi Shihab Nye ~

(Words From Under the Words: Selected Poems)