I’ve realized that this is seventh year in a row that I’ve done a little musical Advent calendar here at Xanga. Startling thought. I still come up with new tunes every year, but today’s is a classic Advent carol, “Of the Father’s Love Begotten.” This site takes it at a very brisk clip compared with most of us, but it’s a lovely tune at any speed.

The tune is from the 11th century, and the words were written by a Roman poet of the 5th century, so you can really marvel at the persistence of this stuff. Will people sixteen hundred years or more hence be singing Lady Gaga’s
Christmas Tree”? Seems unlikely. And yet we’ll have this tanner or country parson or, as in this case, judge who knocks out a little ditty for the holiday and we hum it around the office still. Amazing.

The author, Aurelius Clemens Prudentius, was born in Spain (part of the Roman Empire) in 348 A.D. He became a lawyer and then a judge, and finally rose to great power under Emperor Theodosius. At 57 he retired to write poetry, and came up with this wonderful thing, which was translated into English by John Mason Neale in 1850.

You can sing this around the house or office today. It sounds good hummed softly under the breath. It also sounds nice in complex arrangements, as you can hear at YouTube, and also very pretty with just a guitar like this. They’re a little off pitch sometimes, but it’s still nice.

I’d like to hear it jazzed up, too. Quite a few choirs have recorded this piece, but no one has put a steel drum or saxophone with it.

I got to gym today, at last. If we relax about the gym from Thanksgiving to New Year’s, we’ll be completely out of the habit and have to start over, so this is not the time to skip days. The 52 changes book also wants us to begin keeping a record of what we eat. I’ve tried to do this before, and I always fail, but I’m trying again.

This is the appetizer #2 daughter made for us for Thanksgiving dinner.  You fill a little baking dish with cherry tomatoes (I bet grape or plum would work, too), drizzle on a little olive oil, season with bay leafand garlic, and roast them at 250 degrees for a couple of hours. Then you spread the resulting tomatoey goodness on crostini. We had these with Mai Tais. They’re booked for a return engagement on Christmas Eve.

Between now and then, we have Advent. Advent is a time to prepare spiritually for Christmas. It is marked not by the penitence of Lent but by awareness of the things that might interfere with full rejoicing at Christmas. To that end, it is a time of austerity. We are to eat simple foods and use the money we save for charitable undertakings, to spend time alone in contemplation rather than partying every night, and to enjoy simple pleasures like reading by the fireside or spending quiet time with good friends and family.

We began Advent in church today with several of the lovely austere hymns of Advent, so that I’m having trouble choosing just one for the Christmastide song today. These tunes are so lovely that I really look forward to them every year.

Let’s start with “Savior of the Nations, Come.” This was written by Ambrose of Milan in the 4th century,  translated by Martin Luther into German, and then translated into English by William Reynolds in 1851. I think we only notice Martin Luther’s part in this because he’s a famous guy. The big deal about this song is the tune, by Johann Walther in the mid 1500s, with harmony by Bach. 

A contemporary version  may appeal more to some. Here’s a lead sheet — or another in G minor.

I have found no recordings of this haunting tune at all. What’s up with that? Why hasn’t Sting done this? I don’t know. But you will simply have to sing this yourself. You can do so while preparing an austere meal, suited to contemplation of those things in your life you might want to work on a bit before the Christmas revels. An appetizer of roast tomatoes will be a perfect choice, but maybe skip the mai tais.

If austerity isn’t a primary goal for you, add these things:

Savory Crostini
2 baguettes, 2 T olive oil, 4 oz cream cheese, softened, 1 package goat cheese, ¾ t  Italian Seasoning Mix, 1 garlic clove, pressed
Slice baguettes into ¾” slices. Lightly brush with oil and bake 10-12 minutes till golden brown. Combine remaining ingredients and spread over bread.

Yesterday’s mail contained a Mio Pacer PC + Pedometer for me to review. When 52 Small Changes: One Year to a Happier, Healthier You said to get off the couch and get more active, it specified 10,000 steps a day as a healthy goal. Yesterday, even though I took a 20 minute walk, I only reached a little over 3,000 steps. I assume that owning and using a pedometer would encourage a person to be more active just by showing how inactive she currently is. “She” here being “me.”

This particular pedometer will automatically tweet your numbers for you, opening you up to public humiliation or I suppose to being admired for your vim and vigor.

We sat around talking mostly yesterday, but we did put up the Christmas tree. I made soup from the leftovers and there was a football game on, so the day was largely an extension of Thanksgiving. Today we might get around to venturing out into the world.

Tomorrow is the beginning of Advent, the time for preparing spiritually for Christmas. In the US, we have a tendency to spend the month before Christmas going nuts, gets stressed over all kinds of things, trying to do more than we can, spending and eating and drinking more than we should, and comparing our lives with the apparent lives of people in magazines and TV shows. This leaves us miserable by Christmas and relieved it’s over on Boxing Day.

This is the wrong way to do it. Begin with  People Look East, a sprightly yet peaceful song about preparation. Make your house fair, it says, but also be glad. Love is on the way. This was written by Eleanor Farjeon to a 15th century French tune. Very singable, and ideed danceable.

Here’s my handsome family. We had a very nice Thanksgiving Day. I chivvied everyone into helping me in the morning. We had a proper Thanksgiving feast around lunchtime,  took the dogs for a walk, and then went over to my parents’ place for tea.

I took along all the tiny deserts. I’m not sure they were as successful as an actual pie, even though they were pretty and they did get eaten.

I didn’t take a picture of the whole feast on the table, but other people did and I plan to add the photo later. In the meantime, I have pictures of some of the new things we did. The tiny desserts were a big change. I made tiny lemon chiffon cakes, tiny fruitcakes with rum, tiny cheesecakes with a fresh cranberry topping, and tiny pecan pies in the form of pecan tassies.

I also make Parker House rolls. The dough for rolls is always the same, the various names referring to the shaping of the rolls.

I usually make cloverleaf rolls. To do this, you put three small balls of  dough into each opening of a muffin tin. Fantans are also made in muffin tins. You roll the dough and cut slices, which you put into the muffin tin, fanlike. But Parker House rolls are cut with a biscuit cutter. You butter them, fold them over, and lay them close together in a pan.

They were immortlized in the limerick:

A corpulent maiden named Kroll
Had a notion exceedingly droll
At a masquerade ball
Dressed in nothing at all
She backed in as a Parker House roll.

The Parker House Roll is named for the Parker House, a Boston Hotel where they came up with this thing sometime in the 19th century. Mine were not uniform; perhaps it was the wrong kind of pan or they were not close enough together. They tasted good, though.

I also made a different salad. I used the lettuce from our garden, along with cucumbers, carrots, and mushrooms. Then we candied some walnuts and added them along with some dried cranberries.

Turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, corn, roasted carrots, cranberry sauce, and mandarin oranges completed the menu.

#1 daughter’s boyfriend’s family came over for a bit, and we played Oxford Dilemma, which is quite a fun game. It calls itself a trivia game, but the trivia is stuff like what an isotope is or the composer of “Flight of the Bumblebee,” neither of which is that trivial.

You can also play it just as a spelling game, which would not be fun in our family. First, we have two exceptionally good spellers. #2 son is such a good speller that it seems a little unnatural, and can spell things backwards as well as forwards. #2 daughter is another unreasonable good speller. The #1s are not very good spellers — they’re not bad spellers, they don’t misspell ordinary words, but they’re not sure to get Georgia O’Keeffe right on the first try. (Me neither — I think I’ve misspelled her name in this blog, in fact).

Anyway, we’re too unevenly matched in spelling for the game to be fun played that way.

It’s a lot like Monopoly in terms of play, but instead of real estate you have to know science, geography, and stuff. There are Credits and Demerits, and some of the Demerits are harsh — like you have to swap all your money and letter cards with the player who is currently losing. This means there’s a lot of luck in the game, so the best speller won’t always win. Pretty board, too.

#1 daughter’s bf’s mother, grandmother, and sister in law were heading out to shop all night. They wanted #1 daughter to join them. #2 son also got a call inviting him to camp out in the parking lot of Best Buy. They said no and stayed in.

Yes, it is Black Friday. #1 son works in retail, so he’ll be out there in the trenches. I am very thankful not to be. I do have to work a bit, but my work doesn’t involve slavering hordes of shoppers, so I’m not complaining. If I get to it soon, I can get the most essential stuff done before the kids get up.Then we plan to watch Jeeves & Wooster and put up the Christmas tree.

If you’re out shopping, you have two good choices of theme songs: Santa Baby, an unashamed paean to Christmas consumerism which I actually kind of like; or Silver Bells, a happy though sappy song about Christmastime in the city with bits about shoppers. I’ve linked you up to the classic takes, Eartha Kitt and Bing Crosby, respectively, but both of these are very singable songs. “Silver Bells” has the advantage of having an echo type of chorus: if one person in the car knows it, the rest can just sing “Silver Bells!” after the frst person sings it.

It’s Thanksgiving Day and I did some baking, but otherwise I don’t think I’ve ever been less well prepared. The venison chili was good and we all managed to eat it, and then we watched Jeeves and Wooster, played Wii, and otherwise disported ourselves, not even bothering to clean the kitchen or wash the dishes. We didn’t make ice, put up a wreath, make a centerpiece, set the table, bathe the dogs, clean the bathroom, or indeed do any of the things that need to be done in preparation for Thanksgiving.

This Pilgrim lass is obviously not ready, either. She hasn’t even plucked her turkey yet. Even so, she is focusing on her pies with zen-like serenity while sending Thanksgiving Day greetings, so I will endeavor to do the same.

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

We closed up shop around noon and started baking. The results were not unmixed. For example, my attempt to make turkeys from candy, as I have seen done all over the net, was a dismal failure. This may be the worst candy turkey ever seen.

On the other hand, I was successful with the other things: rum-laced fruitcakes, traditional cheesecakes with fresh cranberry topping, lemon chiffon cupcakes, and pecan tassies.

I decided to make little tiny desserts this year. We have only seven people for Thanksgiving, and I can’t feature baking three pies for that many of us.

I may give up on the turkey on cupcake idea; I think I only decided to do it because we had candy corn left over from Hallowe’en. I have been lured into making weird things simply because I had the ingredients on hand before now.

Speaking of which, I am currently psyching myself up to eat venison chili. There is no reason to be squeamish about deer. I eat chili made with beef all the time, and deer are just as legal and reasonable a thing to eat as cattle. I just never have eaten game and I’m being weird about it.

The hunter who gave it to us is the brother of #1 daughter’s boyfriend. My husband is excited about this chili and helped me make it, throwing extra hot peppers in and exulting over it.

We’ll have hot bread and salad with it, and I think I will also get the family to eat the imperfect examples of the little desserts.

#2 son has arrived, and both the #1s, who live in town, and we’re now just waiting for #2 daughter.

The boys are playing Wii. They’re having a light saber battle. #1 daughter and I made up the beds and scheduled tweets and blog posts for our social media clients. I have my knitting. My husband is out raking leaves in the dark and cold, because he has trouble waiting for people to arrive. I understand that. However, I’ve already begun celebrating.

Thanksgiving is a very nice holiday. We feed people and that’s the entire obligation. No gifts, music, travel — wonderful as all those things are, there’s something restful about a whole day devoted only to hanging out with family and feeling grateful.

I have a lot to be grateful for this year, too.

One more picture from Rome. #2 daughter and I were walking along and we saw this suit in a window and snapped a picutre because we thought it would look very good on her brother.

Italian men didn’t look especially lovely, but the suits sure did.

I’m thinking about giving my younger boy a jacket for Christmas. I gave one to #1 son for his birthday. It seems good for young men to have something nice to wear in case some event arises that requires something other than cargo shorts and jerseys.

I’m also thinking about cleats for him. I bought #1 son a video camera (don’t tell!). I can’t tell about the girls, because they might read this.

My eye is no longer painful and I can see. This makes me happy. I have a big meeting tomorrow and hope not to look grotesque. #1 daughter and I went and bought great quantities of food for Thanksgiving, and we plan to put up a Christmas tree directly after, so I must think about presents a bit.

By now I usually have made lots of nice stuff, but this year I have been remiss.

My husband and #1 daughter and now watching a kung fu movie. My husband is explaining that in American you don’t have family, because families don’t live together. Even if you have a big family, he says, you don’t have any family because they don’t live together.

I have an eye infection. I’m taking antibiotics now, so it has improved a little since I took this picture of my grotesquely swollen eye.  It hurts as much as it looks as though it would, but I won’t regale you with the revolting details.

No, the point is that I have been avoiding people. I went and taught my class, of course, but otherwise I have stayed in my home with my hot compresses and whininess. I have a meeting today, and I’m thinking I need a piratical eye patch. I’m being introduced to the congregation as a new member in church on Sunday. I have another meeting on Monday.

It makes me wonder, though. If this turned out to be permanent, would I think I shouldn’t go outside? If I look like this when I’m 90, will I stay in my house and refuse to meet people? Should I, now that my everyday appearance is something that would have horrified me when I was 25, become a hermit?

Is there a rule that says that we have to meet some standard of visual appeal in order to take part in human society?

I don’t think I have this in my mind when I meet people. I have never thought, “That person is so unattractive; he should stay home.” And while my eye is monstrous looking, the whole pain and blurred vision part is a much more important part of the experience.

I don’t usually think of myself as vain. And even now, it’s not so much that I don’t want people to see me like this as that I don’t want people to have to look at something so distressing. Piratical eye patch, maybe.

I received for  review this month a book called 52 Small Changes: One Year to a Happier, Healthier You. It has one small change each week, starting with little things like “Drink more water” and moving up to grand stuff like “Live with purpose.” The theory is that in one year, you’ll be better and better in every way (to paraphrase Émile Coué, the father of affirmations).

I’m not much on affirmations, but I’m very big on self-improvement. I’m always trying to learn more and do better and stuff like that. While this year I am being a dismal failure at the HGP, I figured I could make one small change a week in spite of the demands of my schedule.

That is, of course, the point of the book. We may not all be able to get our centerpieces ready, purchase and wrap 1/8 of our Christmas presents, put a meal and a batch of cookies in the freezer, spend an hour a day on homemade presents, and prepare a gift basket for our houseguests in the second week of November– but we can all make one small change a week.

The first week I obediently drank more water, and I am glad to say that I have remained in the habit of doing so. The second week, I worked really hard on sleeping 7-8 hours every night. This isn’t always in my power, but I went to bed earlier.

This week, we are to get off the couch. Specifically, we’re supposed to move more in our daily lives, regardless of the amount of actual exercise we do. We’re supposed to get up and walk to see our colleagues instead of IMing them, park further from the entrance to the shops, and generally waste energy.

I started off well enough yesterday with a three-hour stroll around the museum including a mile on their walking trail, and tonight I’ll park at a distance from the music building and walk up three flights of stairs (we always do, La Bella and I).

The truth is, though, that I enjoy lolling on the couch. I spent nearly all day Saturday doing just that, even though I was working at the time on my laptop. When I have free time, I like to lie on the sofa with my feet up, reading, and curl up with knitting and a good book or a Netflix movie. My sister has assured me that this is something one just doesn’t tire of, and she may be right. I don’t get tired of it even if I loll around for hours on the weekend. If anything, I feel as though I don’t get enough lolling time.

52 Small Changes reminds us that the WHO attributes 2 million deaths each year to a sedentary lifestyle. Thee author says we should get up and clean while we watch TV, take walks before breakfast and during lunch and after dinner, replace inactive relaxation with active hobbies, and stand while using the computer.

As I say, I did well with that change yesterday. We had a houseguest, so I was actively cooking and cleaning before church, I stand through much of the service since I’m in the choir, and then I went to the museum, and I followed that with further cooking and cleaning. I did a lot of walking in the previous week, as well, and enjoyed it. I should keep that in mind.

Perhaps, if I make this change, I will have a cleaner house as well as a better chance of living to a ripe and active old age.

The Art Trail to Crystal Bridges is lovely, an easy half mile from downtown Bentonville to the museum.

#1 son, #1 daughter, and I went there this afternoon. I rejoined the Presbyterian church and made a financial pledge, so I felt happy and settled when we arrived, and the walk added to the overall sense of wellbeing.

Looking back on that, it sounds rather odd, but I have been feeling unsettled in terms of my church and music life for some time. So it was a bit of a relief to have it settled.

So we set off cheerily down the path. There were lots of dogs and babies and people and a decidedly festival air.

We stopped into the amphitheater along the way. It has heated seats and they hold son et lumiere shows there in the evenings a couple of times a week.  The artist who created it has made similar installations elsewhere, but always in private settings. This is the only one in a public place.

From here it was a very short walk to the museum, with just a bit of waiting at a few sculptures along the way.

There were children climbing on there and having their pictures taken.

I loved it that kids were so welcome throughout the museum. We were allowed to take photos as well, and to get right up near to the artworks and gaze on them admiringly.

Everyone can go in for free right now, too.

The museum is still under construction, but it’s a wonderful building and filled with wonderful things.

#1 son told us that there was bad feeling about the museum, and I did look around the internet and found some ill natured talk.

“Crystal Bridges,” people said, sounded like a stripper’s name, and I guess that’s true, though that’s not what the builders were thinking of.

There were also people who felt that art treasures by Wyeth and Grant and O’Keefe and Rockwell and Sargent and Cassatt and all shouldn’t be out in the country like this. I think they’re wrong. The setting is stunning, it’s not far from the airport, and we deserve a museum as much as anyone else, don’t we?

There are galleries for Colonial era paintings, 19th century, 20th century, and “World of Wonder,” which has moatly 21st century, but more than just the time, things that are odd and remarkable. 

I enjoyed the collections of John La Farge and Thomas Hart Benton best, I think, but it’s hard to choose.

#1 son said it was almost overwhelming. We walked for three hours through the galleries.

We’ll need to go back soon, I think.

The last art museum I visited was the one at the Vatican, so I wasn’t especially ready to be impressed, but I really was.

There’s a cafe and a store, and the trail leads not only to the museum but also, at the other end, to a botanical garden. If you find yourself in the vicinity, you’ll find that there’s plenty to occupy you for the day. Then you can visit the battlefield parks and our very lovely woods and things. We have a couple of other botanical gardens, and some nice little historical museums as well.

In other news, our educational website has been wildly popular with Yahoo searches for “vampire babies.” What’s up with that?