Report from the Milk Maids

Eighth Night

Hi. Howya doin’? I thought about you folks quite a bit over the holidays. I hope you felt the holiday warmth that I was beaming into your brains courtesy of the Psychic Bloggers Network.

I had meant to send this post last night. Obviously, the scheduling software disagreed, which is why I had to go back and edit things a little. Always the unexpected around here.  Also: This is a weird post. You’re welcome.

XRF_12daysBecause I am curious about AllTheThings, I looked up the 12 days of Christmas. There are two different ways to figure out which night is Twelfth. If you count Christmas Day, the 25th, as Day One, then 12th night falls on Jan 5th, with the 6th being celebrated more or less tongue-in-cheek as a “thank heavens we’re DONE”. If you count Boxing Day, the 26th, as Day One, then the 6th is indeed 12th Night and the balance of the universe is more or less restored. (For all sorts of fascinating factoids about The Twelve Days of Christmas, WikiP is quite amusing and informative, if not even a bit vaguely truthful.)

Thus by my count today, yesterday was January First, the Seventh Night of Christmas. The famous gift exchanged on Day Seven (amongst the literal) is…Seven Swans a-Swimming??

Really. Well now. Anyone have a good-sized decorative pond?

Thankfully, by the magic of my editorial keyboard, we can leave behind the Seven Swans (in the good hands of a swan sanctuary), and our Eighth Night gift suggestion is: 8 Maids a-Milkin’.


copyright 2013 Becca Brody

A-milkin’ what, may I ask? Because I don’t see any cows (nor goats)  in that gift list, no sir, I do not. Partridge installed in Pear Tree, couple of turtle doves, some French hens trying to peck the feet off the doves, some calling birds (who are they calling? and is the call on my long-distance or yours?), FIVE GOLDEN RINGS, which by law and tradition must always be shouted and/or typed in all-caps, to the annoyance of everyone with an internet connection. Then we have some geese laying eggs, and those seven swans in search of a pond.

No cows. No goats. No nuthin’ that could reasonably be milked by those industrious young women. Well. Unless they brought their own cows. I guess that could happen.


copyright Rebekah Simon-Peter


Just to clear up a few more mystifying calendar details: Technically, it is the season of Christmastide until after the visit of the Three Wise Dudes on Epiphany. Epiphany, the infamous Twelfth Night, falls on Wed., Jan. 6, 2016 this year. Many churches celebrate on the nearest Sunday, which in this case is Jan. 3.

I was born part-elf, which means in MY household, we persevere in Christmas cheer until the bitter end at 12 AM. Jan. 6.



A Shiny New Year

Yesterday, Today, of course, was New Year’s Day, January 1, 2016. Peace be upon you and yours this new year, and may beauty walk beside you as you navigate the days to come.


Ahhhh….smell that new year smell.           That’s the smell of Hope.

I shall sum up the end of my 2015 with three things, and then I shall move on to more amusing topics.

  • Pain sucks. Chronic Pain over Yuletide makes Santa’s Elves feel a titch past whiney, and let me tell you, there is nothing worse than a two-foot-tall whiney dude with pointed ears and those damn ring-a-dings on both feet and the tippy-top of his hat.

“No, my nose is NOT shaped like a heart. And my union says I am in no way obligated to sing any ridiculous tune about The Big Guy and his belly and the  especially not about the reindeer, cuz they’s union members, too. Ya hear what I’m saying? The Jolly Dude works hard for you, squeezing down those non-regulation chimney stacks.
Have some respect, would ya?”

  • Seasonal mood disorders of any kind wipe all the lyrics to “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” right out of the entire soprano section’s brains. But, yanno, who needs a melody line anyway? Let the congregation muddle along, they all know the words to Hark, Hear Harold the Angel Singing, right? I knew the words to THAT song, backwards and forwards, by age five or so (Harold was so proud of me, spelling his name right and all.) Listen to Harold. You’ll be just fine.
  • Thank the Lightbringer that we are blessed and comforted with hearts of kindness all around us, and that the Christmas Tree Recovery Room is currently filled with Grinches getting foot massages.

Oh, and the Christmas Cookies! Never underestimate the power of Christmas Cookies to sooth an anky, cranky heart this time of year.Cookies Rule this Yule.

Boast Local

It helps that I have discovered a priceless local resource for the Cookies:


One of Canada’s best places to go (especially if you ascribe to the belief that She Who Has The Bestest Cookies Wins) is exactly 1.0 km (a 12 minute walk) from my front door. Wicked Shortbread. Oooh, baby. These delightful folks bake all their goodies onsite, in a variety of ever-more addictive variants. Aside from the three house blends (Classic, made with rice flour because Goodness; Toffee Bitz–my personal fave; and Belgian Chocolate Chunk, my personal fave again), yet more flavours make guest appearances at the whim of the BFreshBaked-300x300aker.

And now, I realize that I am being completely and utterly cruel, because although one may order these delights online, one may only do so if one has a delivery address in the province of Ontario. (Party platters available starting at CA$25, just sayin’.)  Please console yourself with delicious online cookie pr0n: Wicked Shortbread.

Usual disclaimer: I don’t work there. Those Wicked folks, they have no idea who I am. They have no idea I am posting this, and given the ramble-scramble here, it doesn’t really do them honour to introduce them this way.



My doctor, is quite firm on the dosage of 1 oz dark chocolate a day for women. And the Chocolate Chunk Shortbread is indeed quite soothing, I admit.


Do you have something special near your house? A place to eat, a place to see, a Really Rockin’ Tree? I’m a curious sort, so let’s hear about those marvelous things we may never get to see in person.


Also…what’s in store for you in the days ahead? I’m interested to see what y’all are up to in 2016.


What? You want Chispas? I gave you Cookie Pr0n AND Kitten Pr0n, and now you want CHISPAS?

Next time. Promise.

And next time will not be so long in coming, my friends. I’ve missed you.

May the New Year bring you your best future yet.


About sandi

Knitter. Spinner. Quilter. UFO Wrangler. Sometime bead artist and weaver. Two toddler-age kittens, 1 permakitten, 2 grownup cats, 1 beloved dog angel, 1 spouse, 1 crazy life. I suppose that the 5 cats make me 1 crazy cat lady; OTOH, apparently, yes, I do need that much feline supervision.
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4 Responses to Report from the Milk Maids

  1. enallagma9 says:

    Cookie PrOn is just dandy, tyvm, and a very happy new year to you and yours! The days get longer from here on out, you know.

  2. AnnieBeeKnits says:

    Sandi, please sit down with those poor elves for a few minutes, with the requisite tea and cookies, and enjoy this Christmas treasure: (It’s long, but worth it.)

  3. InJuneau says:

    Happy New Year, dearest!

  4. Every picture in this post made me smile. Including the cookies.

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