‘Tis the day before Christmas, and good news abounds. My husband Clif’s broken wrist is healing nicely—no surgery necessary. Because of his wrist, I’ve had to scale back. Nevertheless, there is cooking and cleaning to be done, and I’m right on schedule.

The ice cream pies, made with homemade chocolate ice cream, are in the freezer.

For special little treats, I’ve made ginger snaps, chocolate-covered pretzels, and peanut butter balls.

Our daughter Dee, from New York, is with us, and today will be a day of wrapping presents, making stuffed shells and cheddar cheese soup, and doing the last bit of cleaning before Christmas, when our daughter Shannon and her husband, Mike, will join us in the morning. Then, in the afternoon, my brother, Steve, his wife, Rose, and their son, Patrick, will be coming as well.

A busy time but a joyous time on these dark days of the year, when the air is cold and the stars shine so brightly. I’ll probably bundle up after our dinner and take the dog up the road for a walk. All will be quiet and still. As I pass houses, Christmas lights will sparkle in the night. The dog will bark at noises only he can hear, and my little flashlight will guide us up the road.

Happy holidays to all! I’ll be on vacation next week and will resume blogging in the new year. May your season be filled with merriment and mirth as well as family, friends, and food.

Despite Clif’s broken wrist, despite the Christmas tree falling over and the great effort it took to get it back up, despite spending hours cleaning the snowy driveway and hauling wood, I still find the time to daydream about food.

Credit must given to Tammy, the owner of the hair salon I go to. On a recent visit, she told me about a dish her mother makes—haddock rolled with a commercial seafood stuffing and then the whole thing rolled in crumbs and baked. The seafood stuffing can be bought at our local grocery store, and after perusing the ingredients, I thought, Why can’t I make my own?

What would I use? Crab or shrimp or both, if I were feeling really extravagant. Bread crumbs made from either homemade bread or a good commercial bread. Garlic, roasted to take the sting out of it. Fresh tarragon, a splurge in the winter, but if I’m going to use crab meat and shrimp, then I’m not going to skimp on the tarragon. Butter. A bit of lemon juice? I’d have to fiddle with the amounts. Mix it all up, spread it on haddock, roll, brush with butter and roll in crumbs mixed with Parmesan cheese. Add some kind of chopped nuts, almonds or walnuts, for the topping?

Another possibility, which would really be gilding the lily—ditch the rolling in crumbs and make a cheese sauce to pour over the haddock. Bake at 400 degrees for 20 to 30 minutes.

I might as well daydream while I’m hauling wood and cleaning the driveway. It certainly makes the chores a lot more pleasant.

After the holidays, when things settle down, I just might try making this dish.

Last Wednesday, my husband, Clif, fell down the front steps and broke his wrist. While we are grateful that he was not more seriously hurt, coming the week before Christmas, his injury does put an interesting spin on things. Clif is now sporting a bright red cast, and until we know for sure that the bone is healing properly, he is to keep his arm and wrist as still as possible.

What this means is that he will not be able to help with the usual winter and holiday chores—shoveling, hauling wood, dipping pretzels, rolling peanut butter balls. In addition, I am now the chauffeur, and I will have to drive him to and from work. Because I have lost 65 pounds, I am confident that I can handle all the chores, and what a good feeling this is.

Still, there are only so many hours in the day, and I have made a list of what I will do, and what gets simplified.

Here is what stays on the list: cheddar cheese soup for Christmas Eve, ice cream pies and stuffed shells for Christmas Day. (Daughter Dee will be home next Sunday. I will put her little hands to work, from stuffing shells to peeling potatoes.)

Peanut butter balls and chocolate-covered pretzels are family favorites. They, too, will stay on the list. The same is true for ginger snaps.

Regrettably, homemade bread has been stricken from the list. Instead, we will make do with English muffins and deli flats. I won’t be making homemade crackers or one of my favorites—thumb print cookies.

While I am a little sorry that I have to scale back, now that there are only two hands to do all the chores, I feel that what I have kept is manageable.

So onward to Christmas, my favorite holiday. Except for the wrist, we are all well. In addition, we are warm and have plenty to eat. As the longest night of the year approaches, we turn on the blue lights on the Christmas tree as well as the white lights outside on the hedges. The multi-colored lights twinkle in the hurricane jar on the buffet by the window, bright little beacons in the dark for passersby going up and down the Narrows Pond Road.

Every year, I choose one special thing to make to give as little gifts to friends, my hairdresser, and various other people who might like something sweet. This year, I am making my mother’s gingersnaps, and in the next few days, a recipe will follow. (Today is a busy day making chili for my husband’s party at work.)

But I thought I would post a sneak preview of these little gems, which are excellent keepers, especially when they are in a tin.

Last weekend was chock full of community events, friends, and food. The first Saturday in December is always big in Winthrop. There are church fairs, craft fairs, open houses, and, perhaps the most important, the Rotary’s Christmas-tree sale. (I bought a sweet little tree, perfect for our small house.) Then there is the holiday parade, complete with ambulances, fire trucks, dancing girls, and lots of candy being thrown. So much candy, in fact, that kids bring bags so they can gather the booty as the parade passes.

This year, some of the library trustees—-me, Mary Jane Auns, Liz Sienko, and Lorraine Fleury—-along with Shane Malcolm Billings, librarian extaordinaire, had planned to march in the parade. So on that cold, snowy, blowy late Saturday afternoon, we met at the top of the hill, by Cumberland Farms and Audette’s Hardware, to line up with the other participants. We brought our snappy banner, a little red wagon full of candy as well as library handouts, and we even had some children along, little elves who were more than happy to pass out the candy. (What child doesn’t want to pass out candy?) Naturally, the children had some of the candy, and the adults might have nipped a little, too. (I grabbed a bag of Swedish fish, one of my favorites.) After all, it was cold, and we needed to sustain ourselves.

As we waited at the top of the hill, the day grew darker and the weather colder. The dancing girls, in their skimpy costumes, jigged in place to keep warm. Because the library contingent qualified as walkers, we were told to go across the street to wait by the bank, and except for the Latin Club, off to one side in their fluttering white tunics, we seemed to be the only walkers waiting in the parking lot.

“Not much coordination,” I observed.

“Does this remind you of something out of a Barbara Pym novel?” Shane asked.

“Oh, yes,” I replied. “We are definitely in County Pym right now.”

A little while later, a police officer told us to come back across the street and wait behind a line of ambulances, who were heading the parade. As our group crossed, the man who originally sent us to wait by the bank asked me, “Why are you coming back here?” And he wasn’t smiling.

Fortunately, I’ve been involved with enough community activities so that I am relatively unfazed by this kind of disorganization. I pointed to the police offer. “He told us to come back.”

The man relented and smiled. “Oh, well. I guess he outranks me.”

Lucky us! No fine for disobeying orders. At least not this time.

Finally, with a blare of the sirens, the ambulances lurched forwarded. Lorraine and I were the banner bearers, and we marched sharply to keep up with the ambulances. In fact, we marched so sharply that we lost the rest of our group, who was busy passing out candy and handouts.

“Slow down!” we were told.

We slowed down. At least for a while, but then we pulled ahead again.

It didn’t matter. Along the street, children and adults waved and smiled at us.

“Merry Christmas!” someone called out. “Happy holidays!”

Our little Main Street was aglow with street lights and Christmas lights and filled with people. Somehow, I couldn’t stop smiling, and it wasn’t just because the cold had frozen my face in place. I guess you might say I caught a little holiday spirit on that march down the hill. Happy holidays, indeed.