Christmas Kitchen

Instead of showing you how I've changed up the front entry shelves for the season, I offer up my kitchen shelves, all decked out for the holidays.

Shelves: rhymes with elves, which is what I need.  A whole troop of little guys to help me finish up the wrapping and baking. Or I can be like my mom: stuff everything into gift bags with tissue paper, buy a pack of frosted cookies from the supermarket, and call it done.   Well, she is into her seventh decade.  She's earned the right to slough off a bit and kick back with her Kahlua and just admire the Christmas tree. 

Over here, I'm still down in the trenches with two little ones who get so excited when I bust out the flour and sugar and chocolate chips. They jostle each other for stirring and pouring rights; they stomp off and pout if they don't get their due share of baking fun.  Sibling rivalry at its finest, and I, the referee.  "Let her do the vanilla, and then you'll  get to add the cup of sugar."  "Okay, that's enough stirring, now give your brother a turn."  Ay ay ay. 

It's enough to make store bought cookies and a bottle of Kahlua seem like a fantastic idea.  Still, the stress is worth it in the end. And not just because I get to eat my home-made Mexican Wedding balls.   (I love my giant vintage tray up there. And it is GIANT.  Easily two feet around, it doesn't fit into any of our plastic storage tubs. I believe it's from the early '60s.) 

Apologies for the crappy quality of these shots. I'm no photographer, and it was a cloudy late morning when I took them.  I turned on all the lights, which is why it looks a little chilly and industrial.   It really feels much cozier in our kitchen, what with the flicker-bulb on my little bear with her hot cuppa, the oven set to 350, and the heated arguments over who gets to lick the spoon first.