I hope everyone enjoyed a Merry Christmas with friends and family. It was definitely a different Christmas for my family, and if I am being completely honest, one that I am glad is over. I have never understood that feeling in others before, nor never really understood people not being excited and feeling festive for CHRISTMAS. I just didn’t get it. This year is full of lots of firsts for me. But, as I told a dear friend, the day itself was okay, it was full of distractions, and the kids enjoyed it, and that was a triumph right there. There were tears and there was laughter too. I am at peace with that.

And now the in-between time begins. The time between New Years and after Christmas. My kids are happily playing or enjoying the gifts they received. Everyone is staying in jammies until really late in the day. (And sidebar, this year, I caved and bought us all matching PJs early in November when my husband was out of town. I was completely charmed by the effect of it yesterday.) Basically, it is a lovely long weekend of a week. It is sleepy intentions, and I may actually get to reorganizing the game and holiday supply closet…or not.

I can also feel the New Year coming. I am always a sucker for that line in the sand. It is the breathtaking potential of a blank slate. I tend to get philosophical around this time of the year and get inspired to be thoughtful and intentional about this life that I live. It is a time of taking stock and realignment. Last year it was a commitment to pray, listen, and trust. It was to be a year of new beginnings after a rough 2017. 2018 certainly has been that–there have been exciting new beginnings, lots of prayer, joy, and trust. But it has also held the most exquisite sadness I have yet experienced in my life.

What will 2019 be about? I am not sure yet. I can feel it beating out there, hinting at what will take root. It’s like a bit like hummingbird wings. I can’t quite tell what it is yet as it hasn’t settled. It is still moving too fast and is blurry, but there is the vaguest idea of what it will be. See, I told you, philosophical.

I am sure I will talk more about it here, but in the meantime, I can fill you in on the bread. Not wanting to break my December tradition, I hit up my persimmon bread again. I know, I know! 3 weeks running? Yes, I can’t stop and apparently won’t stop. I think I understand why. It is vaguely fruitcake like in all the best ways–decadent, fruit and nut laden, without all the labor of making weeks (months?) in advance and storing and continual bathing in alcohol to preserve and flavor it. It feels like an appropriate December pick. Also, finally, my ever slowly ripening persimmons have come on, so really, what other choice did I have?

The loaves this time were made for a few different people for Christmas gifts, but one, in particular, made the trip to southern California to my husband’s grandmother. She was quite the accomplished cook in her time, and is responsible for some of the best tacos I have ever had, courtesy of her Tex Mex upbringing. Not to mention she gifted me some of the best-seasoned cast iron pans ever. Given her love and understanding of good cooking, I have to hope she appreciated the bread. In fact, I am sure she did.