some ridiculous thing always happens on Christmas.... always involving food.
like the year i was distracted with Christmas brunch and i burned the bread.
or the year i trusted google with a fresh basil to dried basil measurement conversion (it was a fail).
this year was different.
at one thirty a.m. Christmas morn i decided to make cinnamon rolls (sans pecans) for my mother. this decision was an idea introduced to my brain by a conversation with my gram. you know those conversations where you find out that ever Christmas my Grams mother would make a kielbasa grits pecan roll breakfast for her grandchildren and then i remember that we had cinnamon rolls every Christmas morning.... those conversations. and then i thought, man, i should do this for p and mother. sigh.
so at one thirty a.m. i'm looking through all my cookbooks for a recipe.
in all honesty i must say that telling a older p that she had from scratch rolls every Christmas of her life since she was three is not a point of pride for me and i would have gladly bought that pillsbury dough boy and pre made glaze.... but it was one thirty in the morning and something told me that uni-mart did not stock the oh so wonderful easy cinnamon roll. that means at one thirty a.m. i'm trying to figure out how many tablespoons on a marked stick of butter make up 1/3 of a cup.
but i did it.
then i slept. then i joined the early riser overtired Christmas mother club and got up early to finish the rolls (and other stuff) and then i realized.
i realized..
i realized while making the cinnamon brown sugar filling.... i had got it wrong.
never convert tablespoons to third of cups at one thirty in the morning.
looking for a silver lining i told myself it was better to realize this in the morn then when i was laying in bed where i would have thought about it all night and worried the dough into turning out.
then i thought maybe the substituted half and half for the 'oh no we have no milk moment' would make up for the missing fat...
whatever.
as long as they look like cinnamon rolls and smelled like cinnamon rolls and i made the coffee hot enough to burn everyone's tastebuds no one would notice.
and when they came out of the oven. they looked like rolls, they smelled like rolls.... and they even tasted like them.
harried and slightly relieved whilst i'm setting the table, 5 minutes before p wakes up and everyone arrives for presents and an hour before out of town company arrives for brunch a male voice behind me breaks the hours long lonely silence and says 'didn't you make any glaze.....'
and then my field of vision turned red and i had a hard time stopping my hands from throwing two bowls of rising bread dough, two hot and bubbling breakfast quiches, and a hot pan of cinnamon rolls all over the dining room and in the general direction of a voice. if i hadn't of used my favorite pyrex bowls it might have happened.
and then just because everything has to get worse on four hours of sleep and the brink of Christmas culture exhaustion.... i realized i was out of powdered sugar.
ever determined i made a sugar butter to bide the time till hizazzle went to the store on Christmas morning to buy powdered sugar to make a glaze because yes... we've become those people.
Merry Christmas
... and i think, this is one small reason why Christ is more important than cultural Christmas.
i'll never not do something ridiculous on Christmas but i will always have Him, my Saviour.
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