The Geese Are Gettin' Fat

At our house, they get fat on Christmas cookies.

We need a Christmas post. Well. I do, at any rate, so bear with me. It really did happen here at the WoolGathering House. And I cleaned up (of which more another day when I write to gloat). The real fun, though, is in the getting ready. Preparations were late and thus a little harried, but the mission was pared down and accomplished. Behold.

There was baking.

Serious baking.

One might even say, fanatical baking.

There was the arrival of what has come to be known as the Weight Watchers version of a Christmas tree. It really didn't open up much more. Very svelte of it. Clearly a reaction to all the butter and sugar in the kitchen.

Marco was chief fetcher and egg-breaker this year. Clare was chief baker and photgrapher (all of these pictures are hers).

John and Himself got the lights on the tree. I had to wrap - the dining room table disappeared for a couple of days there. I'm not sure I approve of this division of labor. I dibs more of the fun stuff next year. Still the essentials all were achieved, and with only one melt-down (that would have been me).

And that was just Saturday.