I’ve given up on trying to control Christmas this year. I’m not saying there wasn’t a struggle at first, during which I agonized over perfect gifts, revised my first choices, second-guessed Secret Santa, and tried to wrestle Christmas into submission. This struggle happens to me every December. The struggle to make it snow-globe scenic, make it happy, make it sing in tune. Maybe it’s because my idyllic childhood holidays ended when my family’s seams came apart during my parents’ divorce, and I’m subconsciously trying to find my way back home. Or maybe it’s because as an adult, Christmas became tied to a deep loss that still makes the holiday melancholy around the edges, and I feel I have to cover that up. But this year, I'm working to accept that December will always be a month of coexisting contradictions for me. Maybe it’s like that for other people, too. The idealized family and the one that implodes. Jingle-bell raucous and silent-night sacred. Beginnings and endings, glitter and grief, the Hallmark home and the unmade bed, all mixed up together. My Christmas will probably always be made of loose ends, tarnished tinsel, and holy hell--but maybe with an angel on top. 

I may be a Luddite, but I love having a paper calendar right in front of me as a visual backup for my phone and a place to jot a note about a bird on the feeder or a random thought that doesn’t merit a journal entry. I’m trying to find room for the 2022 Tall on the Wall Calendar from Paper Source, but at 19.25” x 23.75” it’s going be tight fit. For more 2022 calendars, click through below to the website.

I bought these Lucky Honey Evil Eye gripper socks to help me practice yoga balancing poses, but I don’t like to wear shoes indoors so they also keep me from sliding onto my ass on my slick wood floors. Protection from the Evil Eye as well as embarrassing tail spins.

Who’s in charge of the pancakes or waffles on Christmas Day? Make sure they have a bottle of Noble Maple Syrup under the tree. It’s harvested from ancient maple orchards in Quebec and then matured in American oak barrels with a little raw bourbon from New York. (My vote is for waffles.)

Iconic food writer and memoirist Ruth Reichl has a month-long residency at Substack and will be sending out a free newsletter every day this month. You can sign up to receive her short essays, gift suggestions, and retakes on classic recipes. (You'll also have access to the previous entries.) Dare we hope this will be the start of something permanent? I miss Gourmet Magazine.