E and I walked 7 blocks down from Columbus Circle today to watch the Janesville Fire Department's live-burn training.

It was, in a word, sobering.

And not just the heat and the smoke and the amount of water flooding the street.

The whole experience was sobering.

Watching someone's formerly occupied home literally go up in flames, no matter how old or run down or empty it might have been, is just the oddest thing.

It rattles you, a bit.

Because it seems wrong.

Houses shouldn't burn. Roofs and chimneys shouldn't collapse. Streets shouldn't be clogged with smoke. 

Or so your instincts are telling you.

But this is all on purpose. For a good purpose. For much needed training and experience for these Fire Fighters. But also, I think, for those of us watching it live, or on the news, or reading about it in the newspaper.

Fire is sobering. To see, first hand, what it is capable of, it's energy and nature and destruction, cannot help but stir within you a very deep respect.

This is nothing to mess around with. 

I have always had admiration for what my husband and his co-workers do for a living.

This was different, though.

This wasn't knowing what they do. This was seeing it. And it looked miserable and draining and intense and suffocating and hot and wet and cold and, well, and sobering.

There is a Christmas Eve tradition on Columbus Circle. 

Luminaries.

Lit around dusk and left to burn themselves out sometime between the nearby church bells that ring at Midnight and the mysterious arrival of Santa Claus, they pay tribute to the season.

And the fact that as a neighborhood, back in the day, we elected to forego streetlights.

A marvelous decision, I think...

A marvelous tradition, as well.

Elli and I walked around in the darkness and rain, taking pictures that I know could never do the real thing justice, wishing neighbors a Merry Christmas, listening to someone whistling Silent Night in the otherwise tranquil stillness and feeling very blessed.

Which, trust me, was not the case all day. There is always such an expectation of perfection and fulfillment that comes with Christmas. Of peace and harmony. But that is not the case, is it? It's still a day. Just a day. Filled with ordinary things like vacuuming, bad attitudes, trying to figure out supper, leaking faucets and missing our Firefighter, who has been on duty the last two days.

But walking outside tonight and seeing all those small lights struggling to illuminate the wet, cold darkness, reflecting on the real reason behind this season and how Jesus' coming changes everything; even the vacuuming, the bad attitudes, the suppers and the leaking faucets, I got the reality check I needed.

I am blessed. Richly so.

I hope you, too, feel blessed, wherever you are and whatever your day looked like.

Merry Christmas to you and yours.

Well, it was a regular cookie-baking-extravaganza here yesterday.

We made Orange Almond Florentines, Hot Chocolate Snickerdoodles, Dried Fruit and Nut Chocolate Buttons and our all time favorites, wouldn't really be Christmas without them, plain old Sugar Cookie Cutouts with Royal Icing.

All gluten free, of course.

Which for the first time ever, wasn't really a 'thing'.

You know, like extra stress and frustration and hair pulling.

Believe me, this was not always the case.  In Christmas baking sessions past, there have been tears, cupboard door slamming and all kinds of failed efforts that ended up in the garbage disposal.

Never ideal

But after four years of trying to make Christmas baking something E can wholly be a part of I guess maybe I've got the learning curve beat.

Maybe.

This year could always have been a mere fluke though...

Anyway, all that baking made for a very full afternoon, a very sticky floor and a WHOLE lot of dishes.

But also some crazy fun memories.

Like dancing and singing to our favorite Christmas Carols.

Like trying to keep the cat from eating everything.

Like E sampling too many cookies and ending up so giggly and crazy during our video chat with Daddy all he could do was raise his eyebrows.

Someday this is the part of Christmas that will mean the most to me.

Having had this precious time.

Okay. Enough of the sappy stuff.

As you can see, we got a cat!

I know. I said we weren't pet people. Technically we still aren't.

That's why we didn't find this cat, she found us. (On Halloween night, shivering, half starved and yet still purring in our garage...) And Spooky (yes we named her Spooky. You know, cause of Halloween and all...) is not a cat.

She may look like a cat and do all kinds of cat things but in her mind she is one of us.

Which is why wherever we are, and I do mean wherever, there she is.

She has been a lot of fun.

Especially, as you just might possibly pick up on from the photos below, for E.

They are pals. Except for when they are not. Like when Spooky hides just around the corner and jumps at E's legs. Or tries to steal her Cocoa crunch cereal. Every. Single. Morning. Or knocks her beloved Nutcracker Doll off the dresser and pops his head off.

(Yeah...that was bad...)

Other than that though, inseparable.

We even took Spooky with us on our annual Christmas-light-viewing drive.

She was actually fine with it, but I must admit unimpressed...

She likes Apricots. Don't ask me why.

Breakfast with the firefighter this morning.

Just the two of us.

Very rare.

(Thanks Mom and Dad for taking little Miss E for a few days...)

P.S. That gorgeous looking crema on top my "faux-ca-ccino" is thanks to mixing my daily dose of coconut oil in with my coffee and almond milk and giving the whole thing a quick buzz in the blender.

Amazing, no?

Deck the halls...

Christmas tree hunting.

In the dark.

Under the bright lights.

And the falling snow.

Shivering and stomping in the cold.

Blowing on our frozen fingers.

Trying to find just the right one.

Not too big.

Not too full.

Not too crocked.

Finally deciding because it's just too frigid to be picky.

Getting it home.

Putting it up.

Realizing it's the best one yet.

But then again, it always is.

Every single year.