basically, because I need a new front entry

[ricardienne]

I made a cake today: a gingerbread cathedral in my Cathedral Bundt pan. I decorated it with sliced almonds (for roof tiles,) white chocolate chips (for gargoyles) and gumdrops (for stained glass windows). I am never going near a gumdrop again. And next year I'm using dried fruit instead: it can't possibly be as sticky as slices of gumdrop are.

My step-grandmother sent me a needlework encyclopedia. I started to embroider a bookmark with a blackwork pattern I found therein. Only I'm using white thread on multi-colored gingham. It goes much faster than the trim to my Eowyn dress did.

And I am definitely going to go blow my 'Hannukah guilt' in the history section of Changing Hands during their 25% off sale at New Years. Definitely.

Good night: the solstice is over, and with it, Yule, Saturnalia was today/ended a couple days ago, but Hannukah and Christmas have just begun (ending January 2nd and 6th respectively). So happy rest of the holidays!

EDIT: So, it just occurred to me that now would be a good time to post my favorite most underappreciated Christmas Carol:


The Cherry Tree Carol

Joseph was an old man,
And an old man was he,
When he wedded Mary
In the land of Galilee.

Joseph and Mary
Walked through an orchard good,
Where was cherries and berries
So red as any blood.

Joseph and Mary walked
Through an orchard green,
Where was berries and cherries
As thick as might be seen.

O then bespoke Mary,
With words so meek and mild,
'Pluck me one cherry, Joseph,
For I am with child.'

O then bespoke Joseph,
With answer most unkind,
'Let him pluck thee a cherry
That brought thee now with child.'

O then bespoke the baby
Within his mother's womb
'Bow down then the tallest tree
For my mother to have some.'

Then bowed down the highest tree,
Unto his mother's hand.
Then she cried, 'See, Joseph,
I have cherries at command.'

O then bespoke Joseph -
'I have done Mary wrong;
But now cheer up, my dearest,
And do not be cast down.

'O eat your cherries, Mary,
O eat your cherries now,
O eat your cherries, Mary,
That grow upon the bough.'

Then Mary plucked a cherry,
As red as any blood;
Then Mary she went homewards
All with her heavy load.

As Joseph was a-walking,
He heard an angel sing:
'This night there shall be bom
On earth our heavenly King.

'He neither shall be born
In housen nor in hall,
Nor in the place of Paradise,
But in an ox's stall.

'He neither shall be clothed
In purple nor in pall,
But all in the fair white linen,
As wear the babies all.

'He neither shall be rocked
In silver nor in gold,
But in a wooden cradle
That rocks upon the mould.

'He neither shall be christened
In white wine nor red,
But with fair spring water
As we were christened.'



Then Mary took her young son,
And set him on her knee;
Saying, 'My dear son, tell me,
Tell me how this world shall be.'

O I shall be as dead, mother,
As stones are in the wall;
O the stones in the streets, mother,
Shall sorrow for me all.

'On Easter-day dear mother,
My rising up shall be;
O the sun and the moon, mother,
Shall both arise with me.'

The midi and sheet music are here

EDIT 2: I know. I need to go to bed. Perhaps that's why I found this so wildly funny, or maybe it's because I'm an (inchoate) Latin geek. (That is: I found it funny because I'm a Latin geek, not I need to go to bed… oh heck, obviously I need to go to bed… anyway (courtesy of joshwriting, who posted it to Sheroes):


Diane Roberts, essayist, read on NPR December 18,2005, "Weekend Edition".
*****
What's this empire coming to? Now they want us to stop greeting people with "Io Saturnalia!" "We have all these different cultures in Rome," they tell us. "We shouldn't offend anyone," they tell us, "We've got to be inclusive."

We've got the barbarians from the north with their tree decorations and their fire rituals. And the weirdos from Gaul, cutting mistletoe with a golden sickle. And the Mithraists, the Zoroastrians, the Isis cults, and, of course, those characters who hang out in the catacombs. "Hail, Winter!" we're supposed to say. I ask you, what next: we lose the feast? We stop the Solstice parties? No more honoring Ops, goddess of abundance?

I was buying some greenery down by the Forum the other day, and there's old Macrobius with some Visigoth chick, and she goes, "Gut Jule." And I go, "Hey! In this country, we say, "Io, Saturnalia! Maybe you should go back to where you came from." Then Macrobius goes, "She can't, she's a slave."

Whatever.

At this time of year, the Visigoths sacrifice a pig and burn a special log that they dance around, instead of acting like normal people and going to the temple of Saturn.

I swear, I was at this party over at Septima Commodia's house the other day. She always has a Saturnalia party. Anyway, she decorated the place with prickly green leaves. "It's holly," she said, "The latest fashion from Brittania. They all do it in Londinium."

It gets worse.

She had this statue of some goddess from Ultima Thule or somewhere, name of Frigga, sitting right there on the dining room mensa. I mean, this is darned near blasphemous. I'd be scared about what the lares and penates would do if I put that thing in my house. But Septima Commodia just said, "Oh get over it! We're cosmopolitan around here." Cosmopolitan. That's what they call it. Well by Jupiter, I live in Latium. I'm a Roman. And this empire was founded on the principle that the gods, our gods, must be honored at the appropriate time and in the appropriate way. None of this foreign heretical nonsense or these strange customs from Germania or Hibernia or Palestine. I say, "Io, Saturnalia!" and if you don't like it, you can leave.

As we say in the Empire, Roma: aut ama, aut abi!