The customers at the store are still cheerful. They enjoy playing the games and trying out the toys, they tell me stories about the nephews and grandchildren they are shopping for, they blithely discuss the relative merits of Blastpads and Mikado.

I like this part of the season. In another week or so, there will be whiners telling me how they don’t really know the kid and they don’t approve of the parents but they have to buy something anyway. I am sympathetic to these people, and try to cheer them up or at least help them, but I would prefer that they just didn’t give any presents if they feel that way.

While #2 daughter was here, we watched Christmas with the Kranks, a film based on John Grisham’s Skipping Christmas. My husband thought that opting out of Christmas for a year seemed like a reasonable thing to do. (He also thought that the carolers in the movie should have considered the possibility that the people in the house would shoot them. I just don’t want you to be thinking that he is the voice of reason). The movie didn’t live up to the possibilities of the premise, so we thought we might want to read the book. The Poster Queen owns it, and has loaned it to That Man. So there I was, discussing ways of getting the book onward in my direction, thinking about the movie and about my husband’s ambivalence toward Christmas, and of how I really only enjoy the happy Christmas shoppers –

I had a realization. I want other people to like Christmas as much as I do. It isn’t enough for them to help out or to do the required stuff. I want them also to enjoy it. I want enthusiasm. How unreasonable is that?

It is well-known that many people who participate in Christmas hate it. My feeling on this is that a) they’re doing it wrong, and b) if they don’t like it, they shouldn’t get to participate. It isn’t like taxes, after all. But for some people, of course, it is. That’s part of the trouble with Christmas music. Whether you like it or not, whether you are observing Christmas or not, you are subjected to it in all public spaces for about two months.

Again, I tend to feel that the people who don’t enjoy the music of the season are doing it wrong.

I want you all to like Christmas music. I mean, it is a good thing that you are just reading this, because if you were here in the flesh telling me how you hate the little drummer boy, I would probably be singing, or at least making you read sheet music and telling you all the stories of the carols and saying, “Just listen to this one!” while your smile congealed on your face.

Fortunately, you and I are divided by a great electronic gulf. I can tell you about songs and put in links, but it is up to you whether you click on them and listen or not. You can ignore it completely and I can still imagine you listening to the midi files until you learn the tune and then gathering up all your SATB friends and all the musical instruments in town and —

Yes, well. I hope that you are, at least, shopping cheerfully if you are shopping at all. I say, if you can’t do your Christmas shopping with a song in your heart, then just stay home and skip the whole thing.

Wake, Awake, for Night is Flying is admittedly not a song that you are likely to sing in your car while driving to the mall, although this link is to a simple file which allows you to hear the tune clearly. The phrasing is a bit tricky and the tune is not exactly catchy. If you just want to listen, or if you have a lot of singers in the car, you might like it in the Bach chorale version.

The tune is Philipp Nicolai’s “Wachet auf.” Bach wrote the harmony. It is a lovely and stately melody, and the words use the familiar image of the church as bride and Christ as bridegroom, weird to non-Christians but as I say a familiar part of Advent for those of us who observe it. There is also the whole watchman image. The idea is that we have been sleeping or at least not paying attention, but now it is Advent so, hey, wake up! Watch! A lot of Advent hymns say this.

You may not like this song, but I think you will not be able to listen to it and also complain about cheesy Christmas music at the same time.

“My bawk is knit at both ends…”

There is no way to continue that, I’m afraid. It will definitely last the night and it doesn’t cast a lovely light, so I’ll just quit there.

I am finally reading The Da Vinci Code. Both #1 daughter and #2 son loved this book and read it way back when it was first out in hardcover, but it has taken me this long to get around to it.

Then on the way home from work last night, I heard “Fresh Air” on Opus Dei, the organization which is, in the novel, a sinister secret conspiracy kind of thing. I like that kind of coincidence, and also appreciated the real-world background while reading the fantasy.

While on the subject of ancient mysteries…

My great-grandmother used to make this famous candy, known to us merely as “Bertha’s Candy.” After her death, no one was able to duplicate it. Using her recipe, people could make frostings and ice cream toppings, but not candy.

Until Christmas 2003, when I typed the ingredients into Google and came up with recipes for “Opera Fudge.” I made the fudge, my mother pronounced it the same as Bertha’s famous candy, and I thought the quest had ended.

This year, my mother put the story up on her blog. I emailed with “Uh — don’t you remember…?” and found that she did not have any recollection of my successful production of Bertha’s candy. I would have left it there, because, after all, it is a good story, and my happy ending is not as good as having an ancient mystery.

But she wants a definitive answer. My successful recipe, she felt, is too different from Bertha’s to be the right thing, even if it fooled her at the time. The successful Opera Fudge recipe I found has a sugar to milk ratio of about 2:1, like most traditional fudge recipes. Her grandmother’s recipe is more like 4.5:1. That is the kind of ratio you find in recipes for pralines, but my mother describes Bertha’s candy as “silky,” which is not a word you would use for even the most delicious praline.

Now, we are talking about traditional fudge, not the kind made with condensed milk or marshmallow creme or any of that new-fangled stuff. Just milk, butter, sugar, and corn syrup. The instructions are the usual ones for fudge — cook, cool, beat. So, candy makers of the world, do you have or know of a recipe with those proportions?

Hmm… knitting, reading, cooking… now we just need music. Leonidas has a heartfelt rant against Christmas music at his xanga. He works in retail, of course, so he has been listening to cheesy Christmas music for weeks now. He does try to hook it up with religion, which I find unconvincing since his examples are “Rudolph” and “Jingle Bells.”

But many people suffer from surfeit of Christmas music. They complain a lot. I continue to believe that this is because a) they don’t hear enough variety and b) they aren’t hearing good stuff. Also probably c) they are not joining in the music. I would like to offer you, as an antidote to this problem, an Advent calendar of Christmas music. Beginning today.

The Angel Gabriel is a good Advent carol. It is by Sabine Baring-Gould, the expert on werewolves, set to an ancient Basque tune. It got a surprising new lease on life when Sting recorded it, and this link will allow you to hear a verse sung in a nice traditional style which is nonetheless reminiscent of the boy bands of the late 20th century, or to buy the score so you can gather around the piano and sing it.

I see that I gave a link to this same song on this same date last year. While it is a litle frightening to me that I should display such incredible predictability, I find that I told you a lot more about the history of the song on that occasion, so here is the link if you want to know what the werewolf expert was up to.

Here are the Guardian’s Top 20 geek novels. I am not of the geeky persuasion, but I have read the boldfaced ones.

1. The HitchHiker’s Guide to the Galaxy — Douglas Adams 85% (102)
2. Nineteen Eighty-Four — George Orwell 79% (92)
3. Brave New World — Aldous Huxley 69% (77)
4. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? – Philip Dick 64% (67)
5. Neuromancer — William Gibson 59% (66)
6. Dune – Frank Herbert 53% (54)
7. I, Robot — Isaac Asimov 52% (54)
8. Foundation — Isaac Asimov 47% (47)
9. The Colour of Magic — Terry Pratchett 46% (46)
10. Microserfs — Douglas Coupland 43% (44)
11. Snow Crash — Neal Stephenson 37% (37)
12. Watchmen — Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons 38% (37)
13. Cryptonomicon — Neal Stephenson 36% (36)
14. Consider Phlebas — Iain M Banks 34% (35)
15. Stranger in a Strange Land — Robert Heinlein 33% (33)
16. The Man in the High Castle — Philip K Dick 34% (32)
17. American Gods — Neil Gaiman 31% (29)
18. The Diamond Age — Neal Stephenson 27% (27)
19. The Illuminatus! Trilogy — Robert Shea & Robert Anton Wilson 23% (21)
20. Trouble with Lichen – John Wyndham 21% (19)

Not many of them, really. How about you?

I followed through with my plans for a stationary day yesterday, and got the seventh bawk all the way to the point at which its nice little turtleneck is supposed to begin — where I ran out of yarn. Yes, I have used the same yarn for all the bawks so far and have not run out of yarn before, but this time I did. So the choices are: frog and start the turtleneck in the middle of the pattern repeat, make the turtleneck in a different color, order more yarn and hope the dyelot matches and it gets here in time (nope), or —

Well, what I am doing is unraveling from the bottom. There is an inch or so of pre-pattern cabling there which may end up being enough for the turtleneck. So I am taking it out from the bottom and knitting it onto the top, hoping that the neck part will be complete before I run out of expendable bits at the bottom. This takes about eight times longer than knitting in the first place, but I am hoping that it will work. I have no reason to think that it will, besides hope, but I am hoping. Sigh.

I am not going to the gym today, but am giving myself a slow morning to fully foil the virus, and also doing the housework that should have been done yesterday.

If you roam the knitting blogs, you will find that many of them seem to be on a deadline. They neglect their husbands, they say, they give up cooking and housework, they endanger their jobs and their friendships by knitting compulsively. They do without sleep, they snap at their pets, all in order to turn the heel before at last giving up and falling exhausted into bed, their Addi turbos still clutched in their damp and aching hands.

Well, I may be exaggerating a little. But you know the kind of entry I mean.

I am not like that. I am not in a hurry with my knitting. I knit a reasonable amount, and I finish whenever I finish, that’s all. I avoid having any deadlines when it comes to knitting. I start my holiday gift knitting in August (much to Mayflower’s horror) just so that I won’t be rushed.

And then I join a Fuzzy Feet Along and mess up the whole schedule. And there was the dishcloth. And the concert. And the fact-checking (have I mentioned that I have not even opened the envelope for my latest fact-checking assignment?) And this virus.

So now I am thinking that I will have to speed up. I will need to ignore my husband and skip housework and sneak my knitting into rehearsals.

Because I took a different approach to my holiday knitting this year. Apart from a few little surprises, I have made everyone the same thing.

There are advantages to this. You get really good at it. If the first one is a little wonky, you will have it all worked out by the second or third or eighth. You can use up all the materials, by the simple expedient of continuing to knit whatever it is until all the yarn is gone. No one feels that another’s gift is better than his or her own. This method is widely recommended, in fact, in those articles about making people gifts.

On the other hand, if you leave someone out, they will notice. For example, just to take a hypothetical possibility entirely at random, if say seven family members receive a lovely hand-knitted X and the eighth receives an equally lovely store-bought Y, There Will Be Talk.

So today I have a plan. It is largely influenced by the continuing hold the virus has over me. I will lie on the couch and knit and read all day, in hopes of completing the seventh gift item today, and completing my recuperation. I may even stay in my pajamas (this would be more appealing if there weren’t such a stream of boys through the house at all times).

There is a James Bond marathon on the TV and I have several books stacked up. The Schwan’s man came, so that anyone who has gotten tired of Thanksgiving leftovers can turn to frozen pizza. I will call out in a piteous voice for tea at intervals, but otherwise, I will be cabling like a mad cabling thing.

I will also be breaking out the holiday music, to complete the whole lying-on-the-couch experience. Who are you listening to? The Knitting Curmudgeon, who we all know is a bad-tempered old besom, likes William Shatner. Take a moment to let that sink in. Have you heard his “Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man”? Yes, well. If The Knitting Curmudgeon were a sweet old lady, we might think it was touching that she liked to listen to Mr. Shatner’s song stylings, and be happy for him that there was some person in the universe who thought he was “a rare and handy crooner.” Given the source, however, I think perhaps she is pulling our legs.

Novelist Danielle Steele, according to the Wall Street Journal, prefers not to be identified with the term “chicklit.” She feels that it is too limiting. Since I feel quite sure that Danielle Steele does not read this blog, I will share with you my surprise at her reaction. I have always felt that Steele was not good enough to be called “chicklit,” not to mention too old. I don’t think any of those old RO-mance novels gets to be called “chicklit.” I think that it is a new genre of its own. Typified by things like Bridget Jones’s Diary and The Nanny Diaries, it consists of books written in the first person with protagonists who are girls in their twenties or perhaps early thirties if they are still single. They have to be bright (the books, not necessarily the protagonists) and well-written, yet about nothing in particular. Once a book begins to have depth, or plot much beyond Shopaholic, it no longer gets to be chicklit. Chicklit has to be like Seinfeld — froth, but first-quality froth.

The WSJ claims that chicklit has to be studded with brand names, and I am willing to accept that, but it also has to have a bit of neurosis, a little social awareness, and local color. I think it cannot fit neatly into any other genre — that is, a chicklit-style mystery novel or straight formula romance novel would lose its chicklit status.

This is just my opinion, of course.

If you are not in the mood to read books and would rather play around with something online, Nanette Blanchard has a link to this amazing color scheme generator. It allows you not only to generate color schemes which look just like advertisements, but also to see what they would look like to people with various kinds of color blindness. I found it mesmerizing. I can’t think of anything it would actually be useful for (you know the color wheel already, right?), but as a toy it is hard to beat.

We’ve had a lovely Thanksgiving, followed by the Day of Eating Leftovers, so today is back to oatmeal and fresh vegetables. (Not that Thanksgiving didn’t involve fresh vegetables — it’s just that there was a lot of butter, cream, and pie crusts involved as well. And it is quite possible that leftover pie was on the menu for breakfast yesterday)

I am on the mend from the horrible virus, but not quite up to returning to the gym. Monday, I hope. I can be there with all the other penitents.

Actually, lots of us spend the entire time from Thanksgiving to New Years in overall holiday mode, completely ignoring saturated fats and simple carbohydrates — or rather, eating them up while ignoring their health consequences. So this is a reminder to myself that we are about to start observing Advent, a fast season, a perfect time for austerity and simplicity in food as well as in our thoughts.

Ah, yes, the knitting. There is yet another bawk in the picture, of course. This one will be followed by one more and then I am through, except that I have all these bits and pieces of yarn crying out to me to be made into a multicolored bawk. However, the two remaining bawks and then two mystery objects are all that need be done for Christmas. Can I finish four items between now and Christmas? Sure. Can I do it between now and December 10, the HGP deadline for adult-made (as opposed to family-project) holiday crafts? Not sure. Even so, I did break to make a utilitarian cotton dishcloth, because I needed one. I didn’t take the time to make it fancy or even to make it well, though.

If you have been doing the HGP, then by now you have your house in pretty good order, several meals and a whole bunch of cookies in the freezer, and most of your gifts bought and wrapped. This coming week will be for decorating.

It is also Advent. You can click on that word for an explanation of what that is. And here is a nice resource if you already know about Advent but would like some ways to make it more a part of your observances this year.

As for me, I am going to work. Carrying a turkey sandwich and carrot sticks and abjuring the kids to eat all remaining pie before I get home.

(Here is a rude joke from Isis Rising. Don’t click on it if you are likely to be offended. It’s just that it’s about the Hogs.)

We had a very nice Thanksgiving. The dinnner was lovely, the visit with my parents was great fun. #2 daughter was here for a couple of days and we enjoyed her visit. We played Encore and Word Thief, cooked things, ate things, watched a movie, and had a marathon hair-cutting session with Cecelia.

Today, my husband is driving our kid back to school, whence she will leave for St. Louis to see Wicked. She has been reading the book and listening to the CD in preparation.

It is Black Friday (named either for being the day retailers start turning a profit, or for the behavior of shoppers, take your pick). Also, it is Buy Nothing Day. (Again, take your pick.)

Happy Thanksgiving

Don’t you wish this nice old lady was coming to your house with her platter?

She probably won’t make it, being as she is fictional and all. Even so, have a wonderful Thnaksgiving.

The great exciting news here is that #2 daughter is home. I continue to cough and sniffle and sneeze, but it doesn’t matter, because nearly all my family is at home. There is no greater happiness, unless you can have all the family at home.

Even though tomorrow is Thanksgiving, I have almost none of the preparations done, because of the aforementioned illness. My plan to make up for this is for everyone in the family to pitch in and get it all done today. I outlined this plan to the Merry Band yesterday, croaking at them with my bright red nose and dark purple undereye circles.

“Oooh,” said #2 son with a depth of sarcasm chilling in one so young, “We get to make centerpieces.” He will probably end up having to scrub the bathrooms.

I have made Susan Stamberg’s cranberry relish. If you listen to NPR, you are familiar with this concoction of cranberries, horseradish, and sour cream. That Man and I trade off years. I made it and gave him half, and then next year he will make it and give me half. It is not to everyone’s taste, so half a recipe is plenty for each of our families. The first year that we made it, he found a tutorial online showing sock monkeys preparing it. After diligent searching, I have found this one for you. I don’t think it is the same one, but who knows? It is still cute.

Until I read about Susan Stamberg’s relish and incidentally saw her picture, I thought that she was a large African-American woman wearing Chanel suits. That’s just how her voice sounded to me.

This morning I will make Possum Pie.

Possum Pie

1 c. flour
1/2 c butter
1/2 c. chopped pecans
8 oz. cream cheese
1 c. powdered sugar
1 c. Cool Whip
2 pkg. instant chocolate pudding, mixed with 3 c.milk

Combine flour, butter, and pecans. Form crust in pie pan. Bake 10 minutes at 350 °. Cool. Mix the cream  cheese and powdered sugar and spread over the cooled crust. Pour the pudding over cream cheese mixture. Top with Cool Whip and chopped nuts.

Certainly, you could make this with actual whipped cream and a nice homemade chocolate pudding or mousse. However, #2 son loves this stuff and is convinced that the artificial ingredients are what really make it. He has been known to come with me through the grocery store aisles, making sure that I am getting the true high-fructose corn syrup and modified palm oil stuff instead of healthy alternatives. It is the Poster Queen’s recipe. She also gave me a recipe for a breakfast dish made with refrigerated crescent rolls and cream cheese and sugar. #2 son would probably like to go live with the Poster Queen.

Tonight I will do the rolls, and possibly the sweet potato casserole. #2 daughter is a fan of this dish, and has begged me not to introduce anything healthy into it. There may also be Jell-O made today. We are not big Jell-O eaters at our house, but there really is nothing as pretty for the table as a well-molded Jell-O salad. Around here, many people call these things “congealed salads,” which I find disgusting, so I just use the brand name. Jell-O fans will want to visit the Jell-O Museum and Gallery. The ambivalent will want to rush right over to the Jell-O section of the Gallery of Regrettable Foods.

#1 daughter, in the spirit of making table-decoration food, is preparing the infamous Green Bean Casserole. Son-in-law’s family apparently serves this dish every Thanksgiving, and #1 daughter is making Thanksgiving dinner for his family, so she is adding it to her menu. She says that they do not eat it, but they always make it. I have never had this dish, but it seems much worse than Jell-O. Also, since Jell-O is cheap and contains no actual food of any kind, I do not feel bad about throwing it away the next day.

Tomorrow morning will be for making pies and vegetables while ignoring the Macy’s parade on TV. My dad is bringing the turkey and dressing.

We also have a turkey in our freezer, because my husband’s company handed out turkeys before laying everyone off for the rest of the year. That Man feels that there was a sort of evil irony to that, but I am grateful. The company usually provides a ham or a second turkey at Christmas, too. In general, it is a good harbinger for the economy; when there is a ham, the economy as a whole is usually pretty good the following year. Turkey years tend to be rough. This year, the company has, by shutting down so early, avoided the whole thing, but I cannot help but think that this is a worse sign than a second turkey. In any case, my dad always brings a turkey at Thanksgiving, and we always have a second turkey dinner for New Year, courtesy of the company. We used to try to convince my dad not to bring the turkey, because we already had one, but I think he doesn’t trust me to roast a turkey properly.

The other things that have to be done today are haircuts for all and housecleaning. If you explore all the amusing links I have given you today, you could put off your housecleaning for several hours.

I did wake up in the middle of the night thinking I should make candles today, because Janalisa showed me the most charming centerpiece with autumn-tinted candles and pressed leaves, but that is the sort of impulse that can be overcome in the clear light of day, with sufficient willpower.