When my brother returned from his mission in Argentina, he brought a Piñon Fijo doll for all of his nieces and nephews. (Thank you Ammon!)
Today is Pikku Joulu, our made up holiday with the hard to pronounce (and spell) Finnish name.
My sister Marianne calls it Piñon Fijo. I don't blame her. Pikku Joulu is not easy.
It is a glorious thing about being an adult that you can make up your own holidays.
When I was growing up, Christmas Eve was my very favorite night of the year. We would gather and have a clam chowder in bread bowls dinner, a Christmas Eve program written and directed by my theatrical sisters, some of my mom's spectacular cookies and then my dad would write Santa. It was all wonderful.
Marrying Adam meant giving up the dream of marrying a cowboy, watching the sunset in Nevada every night and Christmas Eve. I let go of the first two things more easily than the Christmas Eve. It's still a sore spot.
Adam is a magnanimous sort and he came up with Pikku Joulu. We celebrate Christmas Eve the way my family celebrated, but on the first Monday of December. (Except for this year because the first Monday in December was too too close to Thanksgiving.) Pikku Joulu (prounounced peek-koo yo-loo) means little Christmas.
So we're having little Christmas tonight. Not Piñon Fijo, little Christmas. My theatrical daughter has written a play and the kids have come up with some sort of program. I'm in charge of the clam chowder and cookies. Adam's bringing home sour dough bread bowls from a bakery on his route.
Wish you were here.
1 comment:
Why do I read these posts and wish I really were there? Clam chowder... now that was below the belt. If you're ever in the mood for fried rice for Christmas, swing on by sister.
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