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"You hope, and I'll hurry." - Barnstorming on an Invisible Segway [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Marissa Lingen

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"You hope, and I'll hurry." [Dec. 11th, 2009|10:44 pm]
Marissa Lingen

I try to be reasonable with my loved ones and, when I can manage it, with myself. I try to avoid setting up situations where I have an absolute requirement nobody knows about, or when something simply must happen that is not actually very well under anyone's control. Mostly I try not to have absolute requirements at all, but when I do, I put out the signs in advance: I tell anybody else who is relevant, with plenty of notice, and I do what work I can, and I try to smooth the way.

This year I am running low on cope. A few of you seemed to think that my earlier entry about Grandma's appendectomy was claiming that there was nothing good about 2009. People, there is hardly a day I can't think of good things about, much less an entire year. But 2009, really no lie, has been hard. Has had good stuff in it. But lots of hard stuff, and not as much of the "this is good but hard" as one might hope in that context. It has not been "I am sitting around whining over nothing" hard. It has been "this temporary disability is not acting very temporary" hard, and it has been "what on earth do we do without Grandpa" hard, and several other genuinely difficult bits as well. I mean, we keep on. We do what we need to. But some days that's easier than others. And this is the third Santa Lucia Day with the vertigo as a constant companion. After Thanksgiving, we've gotten into the third time through for everything now. We've done two full years. I did not want to start on three. But here we are.

So the long and short of it was, I knew that I absolutely needed Santa Lucia Day to go right this year. I absolutely needed to have lussekatter ready and waiting Sunday morning. There was not any wiggle room on this. There was not any room for "what if I don't have the energy, can't we do it Tuesday instead" or "what if something time-consuming comes up with getting Grandma out of the hospital" or "what if we get another curveball, pleasant or unpleasant." And there is no buying lussekatter or having someone else make them. They are my lussekatter what are mine. I make lussekatter for Santa Lucia Day, and this is at least as important as eating the said lussekatter.

So this morning I stirred the dough together. It took a long time to rise, but was gently behaved once it did, or at least well-behaved for lussekatter. I have done this enough times now that I have my calibration from "merely a pain in the butt" to "do not eat me, crazy yellow dough, or at least spare the rest of the family," and this was far towards the former. Then in the oven it rose like crazy, uff da, never saw such a size differential between the step where I stud the individual buns with dried blueberries and the step where they come out of the oven. The house smelled of yeast and saffron, and my hands feel better, and I am dizzy but resolute, and I have lussekatter. And also I gave some friends some cookies and gave timprov an early Christmas present and went to see Grandma in the hospital. I pummeled, I sang, I gave. And here we are, and come hell or high water--if the sun doesn't come up Sunday morning--I have done the part I can do to bring the light back, and there will be lussekatter for Santa Lucia Day.

Happy Santa Lucia Day, and here's to making certain of the small things we need.

2006 2007 Part 1 2007 Part 2 2008

[User Picture]From: zelda888
2009-12-14 04:15 pm (UTC)
Whereas I resent being forced to buy *three whole* packets of yeast, when I will only ever use one! I make Dilly Bread rarely enough that the previous yeasties are always past use when I come to it again. (And trying to make sense of my dialect is an iffy proposition. My parents are both from Ohio, but I'm an Air Force brat who grew up all over the US. I'm firmly on the East Coast side of the soda/pop divide, but otherwise I'm rather a mish-mash.)

Mortar and pestle, check. Having spent way too many hours of my life grinding dried marigold petals (for professional reasons, not culinary), I'm inclined to blame too much moisture for the ones that don't grind right. We did the drying ourselves, and even when they were all done the same way, there were some individual plants whose petals just had more "substance," and wouldn't give up the last traces of water to become brittle. Then when you have different brands and suppliers in the mix, you add the possibility of different thoroughness in drying, and different aridity of storage conditions on their way to you.

a really hard 4/4 rock rhythm to make the punching go right

Hmm. My repertory right now really doesn't include anything that answers this description. We'll see what I can do about that.
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[User Picture]From: mrissa
2009-12-14 05:19 pm (UTC)
Well, the hard-punching 4/4 thing is sort of like lullabyes: you can make nearly anything into a lullabye if you sing it right. My brother-in-law does a version of "All Praise to Thee My God This Night" that can get a good wham! in on each word, if you're vehement enough about it.
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