H., S., and E. were frying LOTS OF BACON.
(Only the scent of bacon wafted all through the house. Cooking was limited to the kitchen.)
They did not attend Church on Christmas Eve for one very unfortunate reason: There was no room in the inn. Literally. The gatekeeper told the unhappy church-goers to reserve tickets for the next service. Tickets?? Harumph. H., S., and E. were too stubborn and cold to wait around for two hours, so instead they drove home and made fudge.
And thus began the culinary merrymaking!
H. made popcorn garlands.
(My apologies for the yellowness!)
S. made apple tart/provided entertainment/etc.etc.etc.
Yes. They listened to the 4 Seasons. It wouldn't be a party without Frankie Valli.
Bacon fried, E. cried (because she was chopping onions), and everyone had a jolly time making the kitchen messy.
After cleaning for a good hour or so, the group read from the Bible, sang carols around the piano (in the style of Little Women), and turned off all the lights to scurry about and fill stockings (in the style of Betsy-Tacy). There may or may not have been much squealing and bumping. Of course, E. slept upstairs with H. since she needed to run down the stairs with everyone on Christmas morning. H. probably was glad that E. didn't have cold feet (for she wore boot socks), and E. was glad that H. had double the comforters.
It was a very merry Christmas Eve.