Where did Christmas go?

It disappeared somewhere after I found an excellent recipe for gluten-free ginger cookies. Having learned my lesson, I made a single batch to test the recipe. It was wonderful. And I don't even like  most ginger stuff.  But these cookies were dark and rich and chewy and intense, almost like chocolate. And pretty. So I  made a quadruple batch for my holiday mailings. Mmmm.

Then C. got sick. We drove in to the CHAS Clinic (she doesn't have insurance) in Deer Park, and the bastards refused to see her as we were eight minutes late (I slid off the driveway in six inches of fresh wet snow and had to cowboy my way out in the Subaru). And we didn't call (C., bless her heart, is plumb unable to get the cell phone to work though she tried repeatedly.) So they blew us off. In a rural area after a winter storm. I was shocked.

So we went to urgent care, which costs a bundle. C. got antibiotics for mastitis, and we crept home.

So C. is now really quite sick with this infection. (Or maybe it's my cooking. I have a limited repertoire, and nachos every day can make you feel a little weird.) And I find I just can't make myself  get back in the car and face the roads. I learned to drive in Alaska, and I usually love to go charging into the snow, hurtling over berms, sliding into my parking spot, but MS has pretty much killed my confidence. It's less fun to get stuck when you have a hell of time walking or digging out. I put off mailing cookies until it's too late. Pathetic, I know.

And we hesitate to have the kids come up for Christmas, since mastitis can be contagious and both girls are nursing their babies.

So C. rests and we work on our now post-Christmas-present projects.

I'm making a rocking dachshund for our little granddaughter. The rocking base is the hard part, and I get it assembled all wonky. I've never made a rocking anything, and we're winging it without a pattern. And it's really cold in the shop area of the unheated gym, so I set up a spot in the living room and proceed to make a huge mess. C. is too ill to protest. I dart in to the gym and sand or cut or drill, them rush back into the warmth.

I disassemble the base, clamp the rockers to a box to keep everything square, and reassemble. It works!

I feel pretty successful when Bella barks at the partly finished intruder. I still need to cover the screws, and apply the final paint, ears and loooooooong tail.

When C. feels better she works on her own metal project. Shoot, she's making a bigger mess than I am!

We plan to get everyone together soon and pass out weird homemade presents. It will be lovely.