house smell so great yesterday. We accomplished two of Husband's favorite cookies: Scottish Oatcakes and Thumbprint Butter Cookies.
Actually, the Thumbprints are my favorite as well, and like potato chips, betcha can't eat just one or 5. Ohmygoodness.
I also made two chicken pies, not to be confused with chicken pot pies, and stuffing to take to the Ronald McDonald House for their Christmas dinner. My parents came through last night on their way to my sister's so I was glad to have Mom's help throughout the kitchen.
Cleaning up last night I was thinking about how in my efforts, and necessity, of the last 3 years to make Christmas more simple, I had dropped some traditions as onerous, neglecting how valuable they actually were to my sanity. For example, I really liked baking those cookies. Something inside seemed to rest even as I was busy shifting baking sheets in and out of the oven.
I don't regret the severe pruning that needfully occurred of what I had laboriously tacked on to Christmas being Christmas. The celebration had lost its meaning and depth in the hustling from one event and task to the next. Fatigue and its resulting irritation were my regular Christmas greeting then.
Now, though, I have a new freedom to bring back in the tasks that bless and comfort my family instead of exhaust us. Baking cookies yesterday was a small but renewing, and caloric, step.