merry christmas everyone

Murray send me the above picture last night when he was working. Now he's passed out on Mycroft's bed, hopefully to awake soon, and then maybe he and I will have a better chance against the boys at cards then I'm having on my own. It's a good thing we're not playing for money.

And here is the terribly impressive yule log cake:

Not quite as alcoholic as the background suggests. Probably. 

And I think I hear Murray stirring, which means that I might be able to leave the boys with him and Mrs. Hudson and sneak off to visit L for a bit... I fully expect Mycroft to have won all his worldly possessions by the time I get back. He's honestly a little terrifying, and Sherlock's learning fast. 

Merry Christmas, everyone, and I hope you're having a good day whether you celebrate it or not. 

it distresses us to return work which is not perfect

“Many years ago I sent an old, beloved jacket to a cleaner, the Sycamore Cleaners. It was a leather jacket covered in Guinness and blood and marmalade, one of those jobs … and it came back with a little note pinned to it, and on the note it said, ‘It distresses us to return work which is not perfect.’ So that will do for me. That can go on my tombstone.”

--Peter O’Toole

Apart from being a wonderful quote and a rather wonderful thing to potentially have on one's tombstone, his description of the jacket reminds me very much of L's. Blood and Guinness and marmalade... He'd probably blame me for the marmalade. 

Well. That was a very full weekend. Seems like it's been about a week since Friday. Sherlock's play was...sort of a cross between Noah's ark, minus Noah...and minus the ark...with something about the environment and climate change thrown in? I think. There was definitely a flood, at any rate. And at the end when the crops were growing properly again and not flooded out or dried up, all the carrots got up and danced around. As they do. It was great. 

Nicky and her family came to visit, and Mycroft and Carla got to go off by themselves for a while, so I assume Mycroft is currently winning the battle he's waging with his mum. Either that or she's told the security people to especially sneaky, but I think Mycroft would spot them. He's had a lot of practice. The dogs went with them. I'm not sure how much good they'd actually be if something happened, but they're certainly intimidating. 

He and Carla each got one tree decoration while they were out, and now Sherlock is mad for all of us to go out and get ours as well. We're behind on his Christmas schedule, apparently....

till time and times are done

Mrs Hudson has just been up to have me try on something she's making for L for Christmas... Should be interesting.

This is our last Mycroftless weekend for a while - he's home on the 6th, although their mum called today to say she might take them on a trip if L and I going away somewhere, which would be lovely for everyone, especially Mrs Hudson, who will probably be thankful for a little peace and quiet by then. It's funny how we always think the flat feels so empty when Mycroft leaves, when of course it is - there's double the number of living beings in the flat, and the dogs count for two people each in terms of chaos. Or about 13 degus each. Whichever unit of measurement you prefer.

Plus Anthea, of course, but she's a sort of...chaos sink (like a heat sink for chaos). Everyone's better behaved with her around. Especially security. I suspect them of telling urban legends about her while she's away.

I've promised Sherlock we can go and buy tinsel tomorrow. I'll let you know if I survive, but at least it'll get us out of the flat so L can get some rest. Right now, Sherlock's online researching Christmas traditions. I've already had to veto the one about actual candles on the tree.

Did any of you actually go out and shop on Black Friday? Got your Christmas shopping done yet? Ready to hide under the bed and wait till the holidays are over? 

bats and pumpkins

As it turned out, there was no sanctioned dressing up at school today. Sherlock just wanted to be a bat. We told him no. Or, Greg told him no. I was going to say yes because what could it hurt, but it was pointed out that if one boy showed up dressed as a bat and no one else got to have costumes, it might be a tiny bit disruptive. Sometimes I forget things like this. 

He was a pretend (sulky) bat all the way to school nevertheless, but Mrs N said he didn't give her any trouble once he got there. After school, he was an improvised bat, with dark trousers and a large, flappy black hoodie of L's. 

And then...pumpkin carving. Enormous knives, flailing limbs, potential loss of life or eyeballs. Sherlock and L carved, and I started sorting the seeds from the pumpkin guts, which is genuinely one of the most disgusting things I've ever done and I should've worn gloves. It's the way your skin gets afterwards when it starts to dry on you, like it's sucked all the moisture from your fingers and coated them in an impenetrable shield of water repellent so you can't wash it off. 

But in the end, triumph: 

fallen

Sherlock and I found some good trees today. Here's one:

And Mycroft sent me this site where you can help piece back together an engraved Pictish stone: 

http://pictishpuzzle.co.uk/

I might need more time or patience than I actually have to make any progress, but I like the idea.

Today included laundry, shopping, hot chocolate with Sherlock who helped me fold a multitude of socks afterward, and a pumpkin delivery. Reg brought over the one he'd promised Sherlock in person, and Mrs H gave him tea. We were not invited. ;)

While looking for fallen trees, we also saw a set of three pumpkins stacked up like a snowman, with a stick arm holding a pumpkin head with the guts trailing out of it to the ground. Should've got a picture. 

delicious camels

Puff pastry camels

L and the boys made these today. Mycroft got some to take back to school and Sherlock posed a lot of them in a line inside one of the cupboards, so that when I went to get a mug there were camels staring at me. L insists it's an Italian tradition. I think he just wanted an excuse to use his camel pastry cutter. Or a justification for owning it. Or a reason for its existence. Or possibly just  to tease me about camel rustling again. Were I going to rustle camels, I would start with these. 

They're very good. You just cut them out and sprinkle on sugar before you bake them as far as I could tell, and you could make them in any shape, if you're the sort of person who has pastry cutters, or just into squares in you're not. 

After such a long time having him home, it seems very strange to have Mycroft gone again. I know we've said it before. Quiet. Empty flat. Just doesn't stop being true. We miss him a lot. 

...And he must've been reading the comments on L's post because he just texted me to say 'I'm not DEAD, you know.' Heh. We know! And we want you to do what you want to do, and have fun doing it. Just never doubt we'll be happy to see you when you come home. 

christmas photos

Happy Christmas, everyone. I hope it was a good one. It certainly was for us. I'm too tired to give a full report, but it had all the usual desired components - good food and people we care for. Lestrade outdid himself with dinner, and Mrs Holmes, Mycroft, and Sherlock created some new version of Cluedo understandable only to them. 

Here's a picture from a while ago (you can tell by the blue sky). Someone had hung one of the trees with these two little baubles. 

And here's a close up of our tree with massive sparkly snowflake. 

Jumper report: Mrs Hudson knit me a very nice jumper. It's mainly cream with red cuffs and collar, and some cabling stuff in the middle and on the sleeves. I think it's lovely, and not too Christmassy. Should be able to wear it all winter if L doesn't make off with it and bury it somewhere... 

And now, everything is cleaned up, Sherlock and Mycroft are asleep, and L is waiting for me in bed while I blog like someone who has nothing better to be doing, when clearly I do, so...good night. 

and a pear in a partridge tree

I said I'd post a picture of my bauble today, since L posted his yesterday and vividly described Sherlock's for you. It's just a little bird. I think I had a bird last year too.

Not like that. I know what you're all thinking, especially you, L.

Mycroft's are in the background. He got a bunch of tiny little pears and berries on wires that you can weave into the branches. Very tasteful. 

The persistent cold and damp hasn't been doing my shoulder any good, but today was mostly an inside day, except for walking the dogs (and Sherlock). Tea, a good book, an endless supply of baked goods from Mrs Hudson's flat, both boys relatively calm... 

Of course, there was the inevitable moment when we got back from the walk and both dogs and Sherlock tried to shake themselves dry at the same time, and Mycroft had to curl over his computer to keep it dry and the resultant you did that on purpose / you were SITTING THERE on purpose. It's convenient that sibling fights don't actually have to make sense. Otherwise you'd run out of things to argue about eventually. 

tree buying

I'd point out that my BMW is winning the poll, but that seems unkind to Lestrade, who was responsible for a very enjoyable time last night, so I won't.

The room was really impressively nice, with its odd hanging cage bed and comfortable sofa. In my limited experience, room service usually isn't very nice even when they manage to get it up to your room before it's cold. It still seemed preferable to going out, but I was not expecting anything to write home (or blog) about. It was really good though, in particular the dessert, as L said. Calvados pannacotta, blackberries, caramelized apples, and salted caramel ice cream. Wow.

It was incredibly strange not to be awakened by a flying tackle from Sherlock early the next morning, but I think we could get used to it. Slept in until eight, which is about right as far as I'm concerned and criminally late for Lestrade. Nice lunch, home, picked up Sherlock from school...and then the Christmas tree.

We went to a tree farm to cut down our own this year. Sherlock had a check list regarding height, width, colour, needle quality, etc. It took two solid hours, not counting the drive there and back. Got home, got it up and mainly straight, and L had to rush off because he was nearly late to work by then.

I tried to be restrained with the tinsel this year, partially for L and Mycroft's sakes, and partially because the enormous wreath Mrs Hudson and Sherlock did is already so extremely sparkly that any more sparkle in or around our flat might cause some sort of sparkle implosion and result in a black hole that would suck all the glitter out of the world. 

disappearing act

If you've read the comments in L's blog, you'll have seen that Mycroft and Carla gave us the slip today. Not just us, but security as well. They lost us in the crowds of manic Christmas shoppers at Harrods. They let us know they were okay after a while, and then apparently went ice skating and had hot chocolate.

I'm...torn on how to feel about it, and what to do about it. He's a teenager now. He's obviously going to want more freedom than he's had, and it's a reasonable thing to want. I don't know how much he can reasonably have. Need to talk to his mum about that. There's got to be some kind of balance between keeping him safe and letting him grow up. Probably should've done it before now, really.

Apart from that, we all had a nice day, despite the crowds. A bit of shopping (all right, more than a bit), lunch out. L spent at least an hour trying to convince me I wanted an earring after we walked by a piercing place. Nearly gave in, but I'm sure I don't need any more holes in my head than I already have.  Pretty sure.

Sherlock asked, idly, if he could get his tongue pierced. We're going to be in so much trouble when he hits fifteen or sixteen. 

going fast, slowly

Sherlock's mum picked him up from school today and took him to get cake. I gather she was regaled with every last detail regarding the Christmas show, including the colour of lights he wants on his halo. He also got her to sign a contract saying she'd be there. It covers a number of contingencies, including alien invasion, zombie apocalypse, and nuclear war. In all cases, she is expected to attend the show, even if some of Sherlock's classmates attempt to eat her brain.

With all this time on my hands, I helped Mrs Hudson bake:

Went for a run. Thought about some things, which didn't turn out as badly for me as it usually does. Cleaned the kitchen, waded around in Sherlock's room to make sure  there was nothing growing in there that shouldn't be. And had the following exchange of texts with Anthea:

Me: are you coming to christmas dinner?

A: what's in it for me

Me: the opportunity to wash a lot of dishes after

A: you mean make my minions wash a lot of dishes

Me: thought you said they weren't your minions

A: reconsidering. may need to start life of supervillany, in which case minions necessary 

I think Harrow may be getting to her. 

And lastly, here is a cheetah running very fast...very slowly.

back to the future

Delorean taxi

The linked article says it's not real, sadly - I mean that it doesn't exist as a taxi, not just that it doesn't really take you back in time.

Sherlock's class had auditions for the Christmas show today. Sherlock wants to be an angel with a light up halo. A dancing angel. Possibly breakdancing. Probably not on the head of a pin, but nothing would surprise me. He's also got a violin piece to play at the start of the show, along with two of his classmates, who I believe are playing cello and harp.

On the way home, he said he wants to invite Molly and Sally to come to the show  as well - but only if he gets the part. Heh. I need to ask Mrs N how many guests we're allowed to bring. There are quite a few of us already.

And I need to start Christmas shopping in a very serious way. What are you all getting your mums this year? Any ideas I can steal?

-

I'm not going to continue the poetry indefinitely, but I realised I didn't do any haiku at all. So here's this, by Issa.


In this world
we walk on the roof of hell
gazing at flowers. 

stopping by woods

So, the Christmas show. I talked to Mrs N today, and I'm reporting the following bit of conversation so that L can see that the result was not my fault. 

Me: Has Sherlock said anything to you about Lestrade playing guitar in the show? 

Her: I didn't know he played! Oh, that would be lovely. I was going to play piano, but it'll be easier to organise everyone back stage this way. Thanks so much for offering. 

...Clearly not my fault, right? L, I can probably still get you out of it if you really don't want to. 

As for the actual content of the show, she said it started with the kids thinking that the most interesting part of the nativity story was the three wise men trekking across the desert and ended as some sort of desert survival story...with science...and dancing. And, she says, possibly a live goat. 

I, for one, cannot wait. 

-

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Robert Frost

leaves

I think someone asked if Sherlock's half term dates are the same as Mycroft's and I never answered, but they are. Sherlock's plans are becoming ever wilder. If it were left entirely up to him, I think we'd be climbing Everest over the weekend, followed by a short jaunt to the Amazon basin in the week. I'm not sure we'll be going anywhere at all, but I'm sure we'll have fun. It'll be great having him home.

Lestrade brought me home flowers last night because he's the sweetest man alive. White roses and green chrysanthemums, the kind with the extra long petals. There's probably a name for them, but you'd have to ask Greg the florist. They're lovely, and sitting in a slightly wonky vase on the table. It's white and chipped, and I don't actually know where it came from. Maybe it's Mrs Hudson's. The only vase we had whose origin I was certain of is the one I got cracked over the head with.

It's funny how things just appear like that. Not something I'm used to, like having a fixed address and more than two pairs of shoes.

Lestrade, let me know if you want to get lunch or something? And then I've been advised that I'm not too old to jump in piles of leaves in the park with Sherlock, so I expect we'll be doing that after school. 

hello, beef?

 Just watched this with the boys:

Sherlock thinks 'There's been a moooder' is the funniest thing he's ever heard. He's gone to tell Mrs Hudson about it immediately. I'm not sure Mrs Hudson knows youtube exists, so this should be interesting.

Mycroft's gone out to walk the dogs in the rain. L is either napping or possibly doing paperwork in the bedroom. Not a terribly exciting day really, but that's Monday for you. I'm looking at places to go where it's not raining. It's difficult to pick when the sky is blue in all the pictures. 

easter

When Harry and I were still young enough to dye Easter eggs, we usually went to our grandmother's house for it. She wouldn't buy the commercial kits, so it was onion skins or beets - basically either yellow-brown or pinky-red. They weren't very exciting, and the best part was rolling then down the hill in her back garden afterward, although when I say rolling, I actually mean chucking, often quite hard. I think both of us would've been even happier if they hadn't been hard boiled.

The idea was that you won if your egg was intact at the bottom, and you got to eat it, but both of loathed hard boiled eggs, so it wasn't much incentive.

And then one year we hurled them down as usual, went to collect them, and found that under the smashed bits they were all chocolate inside. She'd poked holes in the shells with a needle, drained the eggy part out, washed them, and filled them up with chocolate before she gave them to us.

She never did it again, and I can't blame her, because it must've been a beastly job. Lovely surprise though. I talked to my mum today and asked if she remembered that Easter. She said yes, because her mother had called her the day before we arrived while she was in the middle of doing it. She said it was the only time she'd ever heard her mum swear. I can believe it.

I am not that patient, and all the boys' eggs were of the solid chocolate or creme eggs. Fortunately, that's the way they seem to like it, especially Sherlock. He claims to have eaten 14, which I'm sure can't be true because we didn't buy that many, but his sugar high was epic. If the crash is equally epic, he may sleep till Christmas.

a collective noun of degus

It seems like forever since I posted last. I suppose five days is forever in internet terms...and that wasn't even me posting. Christmas was perfect, but busy. And logistically difficult, what with having to get the degus and their cage and all and then smuggle them into Mrs Hudson's flat and then keep Sherlock out of there until Christmas morning.

He's in and out of there two or three times a day normally, so it wasn't easy, but worth it in the end. His eyes got so wide, and he actually couldn't make a sound for almost a minute, just jumped up and down with glee.

This is Argon. Mercury hasn't held still long enough to be photographed yet.

tasteful

Lest you have nightmares about our flat and its smothering waves of tinsel, here's something tasteful L did with birds and branches and lights on top of a something or other in the kitchen (I'm not up on the names of freestanding kitchen furniture):

I had a dream last night about a lift that went every which way, further confused by all the rooms it was trying to get to also moving every which way, tipping surfaces, and lethal lift doors. I wouldn't exactly call it a nightmare, but all the rooms involved were decorated with tinsel... Perhaps my subconscious is trying to tell me something. Sherlock said it sounded like fun when I told him about it. 

lights

Not ours. Much more impressive than ours, and brighter, no matter what L tries to tell you. Some sort of amazing installation at Harrods Selfridges:

And 'the biggest spiderweb ever' if you ask Sherlock:

It's barely possible they intended it to be a star, given that spiders aren't generally considered festive this time of year. Sherlock would like you to know that 'they probably almost definitely had LOTS of spiders in that stable.' I'm sure he's right.

I think L has pictures to show you of a few choice ornaments we bought, too. We had a lovely time, despite the crowds. Maybe partially because of the crowds. Wouldn't be Christmas without them, right?

And for next year...maybe this place. 

shiny and pine scented

The subject line describes our flat. The tree is up and draped with popcorn, lights, paper chains, ornaments, and more tinsel than should be legal. Mycroft and L flinch a tiny bit when they walk into the room, but it's their own fault for having taste.

Every tree on the lot was examined, and Sherlock actually wanted to go to another lot and see if they had a better one. No. It's a very nice tree, with regularly formed branches in approved tree-like fashion, and a good V at the top to wedge the comet into.

L has come up with the most impressive Christmas menu I've ever seen written down, let alone eaten, and seems not at all intimidated by producing that much food for 12 people.

Sherlock's wings are hanging over his bed so he could keep an eye on them while he went to sleep. Mycroft is upstairs with a book and two large dogs. The tree is all lit up, and L is making me tea. I don't see how anything could be better than it is right now.