...Numb into number/they put the cute into cutie/they put the slum into slumber and the boot into beauty/but from this day everyday will be boxing day

Happy Boxing Day! According to a tiny bit of research (and by 'research' I, of course, mean Wikipedia), in Britain Boxing Day has changed into not much more than a post-Christmas shopping day rather than a tribute to St. Stephen, or a day where you buy all your servants (or those pesky lower social class folks you might have the misfortune of encountering) gifts. Leave it to the U.S. to skip all the pretend piety and go right to consumerism and shopping. Today is a day for bargains, for trading in the dud gifts you were given the day before, for cashing in all those many heartless gift certificates given in moments of desperation.

Or is it? For me today is a day of recovery from copious amounts of chianti yesterday, vain prayer that the tips of my first two fingers on my left hand will regain feeling despite abusing them for far too long playing my first games of Guitar Hero (my older sister kicked my ass, by the way), and preparation (minor) for DJing at the Royale tonight. Mostly I just want a nap.

The day after Christmas is always a bit of a bittersweet day. It's nice to have all the preparations overs, but it always feels a little sad that everything is over. At least I still have lots of leftover cookies and candy to console me. Here's what I'm consoling myself with, the sum of all my cookie baking and candy making of the last couple weeks.


Mark Early mentioned scourtins on Facebook a week or so ago and I knew that I had to make some for myself. They are a French concoction, basically a shortbread with a little bit of olive oil replacing some of the butter and the addition of French oil-cured black olives. It's an interesting sweet and salty combo and they go particularly well with wine.


And now I think I will stretch out on the couch, admire one pair of my new boots and attempt a nap.