When I look back on 2003, I have to admit that it was a roller coaster ride. I survived it, if not always gracefully.

            Selling our home of 15 years and leaving our boys, other family, and friends behind in Calgary was only a part of the wild ride. We endured one of the longest grad celebrations in history, as our youngest son Liam seemed determined to turn coming of age into an Olympic sport. I attended my 30-year highschool reunion, where I hope I was convincing as a successful and together chick. And then Jordan and I turned 50. If you are going to have a big year, just get it over all at once.

            But here we are, 2004, our new kitchen completed and party-tested. It passed with flying colours, even though we may have chosen aesthetics over ergonomics in a few instances. What are a few extra steps when visual fulfillment is involved?

We had a few nail-biting weeks and days leading up to Christmas. We couldn’t bail out our Calgary belongings from storage until the kitchen was finished, and I really need my turkey roaster and our Christmas stockings. I was very appreciative of how hard Noel and Mike worked to get the finishing touches done. Of course, without Scotty’s plumbing, YB’s electrical and Dave’s tile work, it would have been just another pretty yet non-functional space. And for the second time in three years, Coolflame came through at the last minute to get my stove hooked up just in time to cook the big bird.

My son Paddy, veteran of many Christmas buffet lines (as server) expertly carved the bird in true Edward Scissorhands fashion. Using a boning (de-boning?) knife, he removed each breast in a single piece, followed by all of the dark meat. All were artfully displayed on one of my favourite, newly rediscovered platters.

Whether it was because I was suddenly left with this perfectly cleaned carcass, or perhaps because I was now the proud owner of a chest freezer, something I have never owned before, I made the decision to save the carcass for soup. I dug out my largest pot, stuffed the whole thing inside and threw it in the freezer to be dealt with when I had time.

Of course, the very next day, I drove myself mad looking for that pot. It took me a few hours to think it through and solve the mystery of the missing pasta pot.

            The kitchen proved to be a great entertainment centre. In addition to our family Christmas dinner (and, yes, I did serve succotash, and Jordy did eat it,) we held a few other dinners over the week, culminating in hosting a portion of the neighbourhood New Year’s Eve walkabout.

All of our neighbours were finally able to view from inside what they had been observing and speculating on over the past year. Although they all suitably oohed and aahed over the kitchen, I think that they were genuinely more interested in our rather interesting shower. The fact that their main question seemed to concern how many people could fit in it at one time only reconfirmed my belief that life really does start after 65.

            I am still trying to find where I put everything on moving-in day. I was just happy to get everything out of boxes and rediscover favourite books and dishes. It had only been four months, but it felt like years. I now find myself with at least a dozen “miscellaneous” drawers. I have one with duct tape, light bulbs, and dinosaurs cookie cutters. I told my neighbour Sue about this, and she pointed out that I could just as easily become used to this strange assortment and if I were to rearrange now, I would never find anything. Good point. I was sort of thinking that if I replaced the light bulbs with dish clothes, I could have a “D” drawer. Perhaps alphabetical might be a way to go.

I gladly made room on my kitchen shelf for the teapot my son gave me for Christmas. Paddy had gone to a pottery studio and had painted me a teapot: “Mom’s Island Kitchen.” I usually cry at one point on Christmas day, although it is usually due to some kitchen disaster.

As I was putting away all of our favourite family Christmas ornaments and our stockings, I realized that next year I will be able to find them all in one place, not spread between Alberta and BC. I will have one labelled box of indoor lights that all work, easy to find in our crawl space.

I am making my soup today. It seemed like the perfect way to spend a snowday. As the stock was simmering, I reflected on other good things about this Christmas: I had convinced Jordan not to play lumberjack and to instead buy a tree this year, my poinsettia had not dropped all of its bright leaves before New Year’s, and garbage day (for those of us on the North side) was on January 2^nd.

While simmering the turkey, I came across the wishbone; we had forgotten about it entirely. I removed it and cleaned it off. We usually wait a few days to let it dry a bit before wrapping our baby-fingers around one of the arms and seeing who can break off the largest part. But I can’t think of anything more I could wish for.