A Very Virginia Christmas: First Day of Christmas!

"Are you awake?"

Those were H.'s first words to me on Christmas morning. I, E., immediately answered by describing the past night's dream. It was either about a curry dinner at Biola or me finding out I was the Virgin Mary, except I wasn't pregnant with Jesus. ...Must have been something I ate.

Then H. and I remembered it was Christmas morning. ("Hurrah! Squeee! Snow? Flannel? YAY!") We woke up S., who also described his dream to us. (Killer bunnies? Linear Algebra Tests?)

Then there was much squealing, running down stairs, opening of stockings, more squealing, and unwrapping parcels. It was a very bird-y Christmas for me, and I now have two little owl friends, a ceramic blackbird for pies, and a string of birds and bells for my room. Hoot Hoot! 

We followed the bird-theme by feasting on cheesy-eggy strata for breakfast.

Followed by S.'s Apple Tart, which we pecked on all day.

And we put on all of our Christmas finery (new sweaters, ties, stockings, etc.) to parade around the empty (and freezing cold) campus.

 

Merry Christmas!

A Very Virginia Christmas: 'Twas the Night Before Christmas

...And all through the house,

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.