Game Nights

The days that fall between Christmas and New Years have always felt a little “outside of time” for me. The hustle and bustle of holiday celebrations calms briefly and I don’t have responsibilities competing for my time. I can catch up with out-of-town friends and the recommended hours of sleep per night. I can read a book cover to cover and still remember the beginning when I get to the end. I can begin to sift through the layers of tissue paper and craft materials blanketing my floor. Or I can wait until tomorrow for that.

There’s also no better time to enjoy a game night with family or friends. I always forget how much I love playing games until I’m laughing so hard I can’t swallow that gulp of water I just took. Efforts not to snort or spit said-water then ensue.

Confession time… I’m a little competitive by nature. Part only-child syndrome, part A-type personality. Which means I wasn’t always the kid other kids wanted to play games with. Because if I won I crowed and if I lost I got really, really grumpy. Or huffy. Or sometimes just plain b*****y in the spirit of honesty. For those who grew up with me who are nodding your heads right now, I assure you I can now be quite civilized whilst playing games. But I have a secret strategy – if I get to choose the game, I typically pick one that’s more about the fun of participation than the sole object of winning. That way I avoid having to manage my frustration when I don’t win. Plus I like the game night vibe it creates.

Here are some of my favorites:

Baker on KP

Christmas time brings seemingly limitless baked goods to kitchen counters and office break rooms and church fellowship halls. I imagine pecan farmers working ‘round the clock to keep up with the chocolatiers in their Willy Wonka factory rooms. Bakers and cake decorators rubbing lotion into chapped hands after long days with rolling pins and frosting bags. Young children standing on stepstools to press a snowman-shaped cookie cutter into gooey dough. Lots of egg shells and discarded butter boxes, a thin film of flour coating kitchen surfaces, and nut pieces that escaped the counter only to crack under a shifting foot.

I’m writing this while waiting for a batch of cookies to complete their 15-minute cycle in the oven before I replace them with the next sheet. I’m settled in for a long winter’s night in the kitchen, smells of cinnamon and brown sugar dancing around my nose.

Baking is a Christmas tradition I grew up with and have every intention of cultivating for the rest of my life. Sometimes I hesitate to contribute to the cultural overdosing on carbs and sugar, but then my timer dings, the oven door opens, and I am content to keep my baker’s cap on for a while longer. Feeding people is a love language for me and love is, after all, a Christmas virtue.

Look At All The People

I've been warming up my oven for the Advent season ... there'll be some baking recipes coming over the feed in coming weeks. 

In the ramping up of the busy holiday season, I am freshly aware of how rough being alone can be, even if the solitude is broken by parties and get togethers and a year's worth of sugar consumption. As you're filling your December calendars, can I encourage you to look around amidst your regular traffic patterns for people who may be running low on nurturing? Ask them to spend an afternoon in the kitchen with you or invite yourself over for a cup of coffee. Make grilled cheese sandwiches. Ask them about their favorite Christmas memories or traditions they want to create, or let them share the tough stuff if they want to. Make them feel like family, even if it's a little awkward.

Grilled cheese sandwiches ... quick-to-make comfort food. When I'm feeling fancy I like to make them with goat cheese, fig preserves, and some julienned basil on a sturdy multigrain bread. Or a sharp cheddar with a few slices of Jarlsberg for a more traditional combo. I outgrew American singles on white bread awhile back. Lightly butter the bread slices and set the pan or griddle on a medium-low setting to give the cheese a chance to melt without burning the bread.