As for the "Christmas tree lane". . .
How many glasses of sparkling citrus champagne punch had I imbibed when I tottered down that "Christmas tree lane?" Apparently so many that I couldn't keep my eyes open. The photographer must have had a few pops himself, given the blurriness of the shot. I like it! If someone would just take becomingly blurry photos of me looking merry I would probably post nothing but pictures of myself on this blog.
My cousin Gardner lives on the so-called "Christmas tree lane," a.k.a. Eucalyptus Avenue in the town of San Carlos, California and it is a truly magical place, one of those streets where everyone seems to go simultaneously insane on December 1. When people buy houses here, the holiday thing is a required disclosure. Gardner and his wife, Jen, hosted us on Christmas Eve and produced this crazy good Emeril Lagasse sparkling citrus champagne punch made with limoncello, vodka, champagne and lemon juice, which we stood in the driveway drinking as people paraded past. I can't recommend this punch more ardently. They served other delicious things, like a blue cheese sauce that was poured over the beef tenderloin, proof that you really can successfully gild a lily.
In other news, this was the end result of our frenzied holiday baking:
Isabel and I had many thoughts on individual cookies that I wanted to share, but we were so busy baking that I couldn't get around to posting and now it is all a distant memory.
Owen did not contribute. He was invited to help, but instead lay on the floor by the heater reading monster books. We were all fine with that.
Meanwhile, our savagely wounded hen survives, though she is by no means healed. I used a whole tube of Bacitracin on her yesterday and am going to buy another one today, as well as a raccoon trap. The humane kid. It's either a trap, or a Great Pyrenees livestock dog, which would be my preference, but I would also like to stay married.