In other words
My big fat Swedish Christmas
Is the explanation “but it has always been done this way” a valid reason for a bad choice? I guess you’ve never lived in Sweden.
You may think that getting ready for Christmas is a hectic time. Think again.
If you’re reading this editorial last week of November, you may be stressing about the upcoming office party you’re hosting, along with the gymnastics club fundraiser. Not to forget about the in-laws arriving in plenty of time before the holiday to really throw a wrench in your getting-organized plans.
You need only consider then what your Swedish counterparts are taking on, to realize that Canadian Christmas in general—and northern Christmas in particular—is a cakewalk. Here, it’s even acceptable to BUY a cake.
And while we’re on acceptance, don’t for a second believe the laissez-faire choices you take for granted are universal. No, no, no.
Grab your calendar. Flip to week 26. What? You didn’t know the year was cleverly divided up into numbered weeks for planning purposes?
This is when Christmas plans are firmed up. Okay, your math caught up to you… There are 52 weeks in a year; that would bring us back to middle of summer. Yes, you got that right. I’m trying to be lenient to my heritage here. Don’t want us to come off as anal or anything, even though it’s not unheard of that these planning sessions have taken place as early as week 18.
Week 27-week 39: purchase lists are done up, careful inquiries are made. You can’t just buy something you think someone will like. And heaven forbid asking. They could think you’re totally bankrupt in the creative, considerate mind-game department. I mean, the least you’d be able to expect from a friend, colleague or family member is to know exactly what you’ve already got, what you may want, and what you’ll need in the future. Not to mention what the other cheap skate in the family are planning to buy. Gotta be able to do better than that!
We’ll skip past the mailing presents overseas, at week 40, and making personalized Christmas cards to everyone you’ve ever known and their friends, because we’ll run out of space here if we don’t.
Week 47: now this is a busy week! The entire house must be cleaned, and I don’t mean just vacuumed. It’s turned up-side down first. It really comes across as a big clean that way, believe me. The windows have of course been washed inside and out again prior to this week (since the spring wash I mean), as you can’t put up new curtains everywhere with dirty windows. Everyone knows that.
Now, you’re really in trouble if you’ve left it until this week to SEW the curtains. That’s right; just like the cakes, there is nothing but just doing it right. And it’s so worth it, when all the windows are dressed in red. And the electrical candle holders in each window facing the street (don’t want to waste them on the back where no one sees them), and the Christmas stars, sure bring up the spirits.
Of course, it would be nothing had it not been for the smell: the baking. The only two kinds that are nationally required to bake this week are the gingerbread cookies and the saffron buns. You see, for the first of advent (fourth Sunday before Christmas for you know-nothings) is when you sample the first baking, and light the first of four candles in the birch bark candle holder on the table. And when the calendar doesn’t co-operate, like this year, first of advent falls on Nov. 27 (week 47).
You can’t leave anything until that Sunday, of course. That’s when the big exodus is for the downtown core. At 4 p.m., donning their finest, families casually (at least in appearance) saunter around, take notes for last-minute gifts (don’t ever admit it), sample everybody else’s gingerbread (never thin enough) and their glögg (never strong enough).
Christmas has officially started. Week 48 and the hand-made (what else?) gift calendar goes up. This is where you place a thoughtful gift for your children, each day, from Santa, until Dec. 24, when the oh-my-god gift stash appears.
By then, you’ve added at least 10 more kinds of cookies to your freezer, at least five kinds of homemade candies, complemented your chest of home-made Christmas tree decorations, hosted at least two parties a week, put the ham in the brine, cooked the pigs’ feet (see first sentence re: “it’s always been done”), made grav lax, pickled all the different kinds of herring, wrapped and varnished (it gets too complicated to explain; just trust me: it’s time-consuming) all the gifts and placed them under the tree with individual rhymes on each present, had your hair done, shopped a new outfit, cleaned your car and your dogs, and while you’re at it the garage.
I think you get the picture. I’d love to tell you more, but I gotta go. I’ve got a lot of things to do. God Jul!
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