This felt like a big holiday weekend for me. All the key points were hit--feasting, family, and football. My cooking experiments were successful, my family (both blood and chosen) were happy and social, and CU won in an intense homecoming game. Heck, even the Broncos won today. The weather was perfect for drawing in closer. It wasn't quite as foggy and drizzly as I wanted, but it was cold and wet all morning, and it snowed on the boys on the mountain. This was an absolute showstopper of a season change.
Those cinnamon rolls I have been chattering about were all I could have ever wanted and more. Until you've gone a decade or longer not being able to access soft, pillowy breakfast pastries, you can't truly imagine the despair that I banished this morning. I made them exactly as directed, pouring hot heavy cream on them right before they went in the oven (steamed under foil for the first 20 minutes). I doubled the recipe but only made a single helping of the frosting, and it was a smart call. When the kids got here for breakfast, I had a pot of coffee brewing. We had to work to get the children to try bites of the rolls, but my daughter and I managed to put away two whole ones each. I had an out-of-body experience when I tried mine. I was so hopped up on sugar I had a hard time focusing at my afternoon meeting for GOTV volunteers, but here I am late at night, wondering whether I can justify a half one for dessert. (I can't. I'm exactly full enough.)
I feel like I should pull out holiday jammies for tonight, and if I had an ounce of space in my stomach, I'd make hot chocolate. Having housemates increases the feeling of company staying with us, like it's an unusual situation rather than our normal day-to-day. Where is the line between that special holiday feeling and getting numb to the status quo? I'm glad I can still marvel at the feeling like a child. I don't want to lose this.
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