From Holidays to Handball

December 19, 2018: a date that will live forever in luminous glory. It was the very first day in all of human history in which there was a working bathtub in Hybenvej 1.

Sure, the window frame wasn’t done — nor the door frame — and only one of the two shower fixtures had been installed, and the lighted vanity mirror was AWOL, and there was no glass encasement around the shower area, and there were still bits of caulk and grout stuck here and there. But the bathtub worked. And I was able to lie in that hot tub with a wee dram of Caol Ila and a Kindle loaded up with G.K. Chesterton. The holidays really had arrived.

The last (pictorial) post got us up to Third Advent and the annual Choosing of the Tree, so we can pick up a few days before Fourth Advent, with the Ornamentation of the Tree.

(Molli thinks I don’t know she tries to hide whenever I’m taking pictures.)

To help set the stage, we woke to a little dusting of snow on Little Christmas Eve (the 23rd).

By early afternoon there was enough snow on the ground to ensure we’d have a white Christmas.

Molli had nowhere to hide while she was putting the finishing touches on some Christmas konfekt:

Being a Sunday, Little Christmas Eve was also Fourth Advent.

…and even Nana got to participate.

Christmas Eve itself got off to an eerie start: while Trine and I were chatting in the kitchen that morning, a potted flower on the bar abruptly and with no discernible stimulus tossed itself to the floor. Amazingly the ceramic pot didn’t shatter, but we were a little weirded out by the lack of any possible explanation for what had happened.

So I applied Occam’s Razor:

Meanwhile, or perhaps the day before (the chronology of third-party photographs is always a mystery), Maddie went ice-skating down in Frederiksberg with Mormor.

And finally it was Christmas Eve. As usual, the formal activities began with a viewing of the last episode of the Christmas Calendar:

This year, as previously mentioned (I think), it was “Theo & the Magic Talisman.”

…which a more prosaic editor might have named, “Theo and His Dying Grandfather.” Or maybe, “Theo’s Adventures in Purgatory with the Tragically Orphaned Simone.”

Anyway, here’s the tree, ready for its close-up:

And sweets and treats ready for their big debut:

And the elves of the kitchen, stirring up the last of the culinary magic:

It was the first year in over a decade where I really had no idea who had the damn ris-a-la-mande almond:

(The Mona Lisa smile should have given it away: it was Molli.)

Both Jørgen and Maddie have a look that could either be genuine effort (to find the almond) or a completely hammy effort to make us think they didn’t have the almond.

Mette looks more interested in the others, meaning she probably doesn’t have it; Trine has a coolly reserved look that could mean, well, anything. (And what’s up with the balled fist on the table?)

So, yeah: I should have known it was Molli.

I had made a Christmas Kahoot as one of our Christmas games: it was a blend of questions about things that had happened in 2018 worldwide (celebrities who’d died, big events) and within our own family. I promised the winners I would post the results here so we could look back next year and compare results.

(Moster Mette deserves special props, I think, since she had no way of knowing the answers to many of the questions that Trine, Molli, and Maddie ought to have been able to simply remember.)

After the game break it was time for the Annual Fire Hazard Dance.

Here’s Trine violating about sixteen American fire safety regulations.

Ah, but they burn so lovely bright…!

And then, of course, following a rousing round-the-house dance to Nu er det Jul igen, it was time to open presents.

As usual, there were treasure hunts and challenges involved. But for the first time ever, none of them came from Santa himself. Strangely, neither girl asked why Santa hadn’t made his usual video this year, or left any clues or presents.

I’ll just sigh and leave it at that.

Maddie was thrilled with her new bike:

(Serial number provided below because in the interests of redundancy I’m going to be including serial numbers of all new bikes on this blog from now on.)

The irony of this present is that Maddie’s old bike had become too small for her months ago, and had been gradually falling apart since roughly mid-October. With one week left of school before the Christmas break, she came home in tears one afternoon, walking her bike, because it had at last become completely useless: parts were falling off, gears were grinding, it was just a disaster.

Well, we told her, knowing full well her brand new adult-sized bicycle was already in the basement, well, we’ll look through the classifieds and see if we can find you a decent used bike cheap, because we’ve already used up all our money on Christmas and can’t afford to get you a new one right now.

She was majestically stoic about it, but kept poking us anyway: had we checked the classifieds that day? Had we looked online?

For added credibility, I made a big show of working on her bike for an hour or two a few days before Christmas: “You ought to be able to get at least a few more months out of her now!” I exclaimed.

She morosely agreed and pretended to be grateful and pleased. (She took it so well despite her obvious disappointment that I felt utterly despicable for the charade. But what was I gonna do, ruin her Christmas surprise?)

She was, needless to say, thrilled and delighted with her new bike… but even more thrilled and delighted, I think, to be rid of her old bike. And I don’t blame her one bit!

I won’t spend more time on gifts because I don’t have any more pictures of any gifts, except this:

It’s the Google Home that Trine got me for Christmas. Inspired by the KGB and Stasi, it’s an always-open ear we’ve willingly plopped into the middle of our own home. So far it’s only changed our lives for the better, but I’m sure some day it’s going to bite us very painfully in the butt.

But how shallow am I? Shallow enough that the ability to walk into the living room and say, “OK, Google, play Exile on Main Street” and instantly have Mick, Keith, and the boys rocking the house makes it justifiable.

Also I’ve taught it to address me as “Your Majesty,” which is nice.

On Christmas Day, Molli joined her mother and me for a Winter Dip at Furesø beach.

In the interregnum between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, both girls played handball tournaments: Molli out at Lund, in Sweden, and Maddie closer to home in Gladsaxe.

Also during that period, Maddie and I took her old bike to the dump:

I have video (but no photographs, alas) of Maddie very happily rolling her bike up to the metal container and heaving hit in with enormous satisfaction.

On the morning of December 30th it rained a little. Misted, really, and a light mist at that.

We noticed a very minor leak in the old master bathroom ceiling that afternoon and thought, hm, looks like Greg didn’t tar the sunlight as tightly as we’d thought.

We’d been going through all of Harry Potter over the course of our vacation, and shortly into Part I of the Deathly Hallows, Maddie made a trip to the bathroom and returned to tell us the leak seamed a little worse.

By “a little” she apparently meant “exponentially,” and by “worse” she clearly meant “catastrophic.”

Water was drizzling into the bathroom from the ceiling now, from a completely different spot.

Well, you all know the story by now anyway. Here’s the culprit for the permanent record:

Yep, that’s the water pipe and the nail driven through it when the fricking bathroom was originally built. It waited 30 years before loosening enough to leak.

And it was just one of two nails driven into water pipes by the same carpenter. On the same crossbeam! And both nail holes began to leak on this very same day.

Insurance will cover it, but at this writing we still have no ceiling in about 25% of the old master bath.

Our New Year’s Eve followed the usual format, with just a couple of variations, principle of which being our having granted Molli Malou permission to have a party of her own. About half a dozen of her peers. And they were allowed to drink alcoholic drinks (we sought and received permission from all their parents), but no more than two or three drinks each, depending on the parents’ particular specifications.

As usual, the festivities kicked off with the queen’s speech.

Which ended with same three words it ends with every year:

(“God preserve Denmark,” or, less literally translated, “God bless Denmark.”)

We went all-in on decorations this year.

…and made sure Molli and her friends would have a private party space of their own.

Even Molli loved this shot:

Same procedure as last year, Miss Sophie?

“Same procedure as every year, James.”

Indeed.

Here are the girls jumping around for the New Year:

And the lovely hostess. . .

And less lovely host. . .

Need some loveliness in there with me…!

New Year’s Day was of course a holiday, but it was back to the grindstone on January 2, and things got off to a lovely start for me:

Yes, for reasons I was never privileged enough to understand, my morning train was canceled. I had to take a bus to Hareskov and wait twenty minutes for a train. . . that ran very slowly into the city. My 45 minute commute took about double that. The year was off to a magnificent start!

And while I worked on Langelinie, the contractors resumed work on Hybenvej 1:

In early January the Men’s Handball World Championship began, and we spent a lot of time watching the matches. You’ll hear a lot more about that in the next post, but take a look at this picture:

Observe the score on the bottom of the screen: man, the Broncos were really killing the Bears!

On my way home from work one fine afternoon, Trine texted me this picture:

It may seem unexceptional, but that’s because of what you don’t see: the massive pile of old boards, broken tile, shredded insulation, cracked bricks, and other detritus from the construction.

Also in late January, some deferred Christmas joy!

(They were earrings from Nana and Pop-Pop that the U.S. postal service had taken about a month to send overseas. But it was such a happy surprise for the girls this way!)

January in Denmark was full of sudden little snow squalls that rarely amounted to much, but they could be very dramatic.

Moster Mette’s 50th birthday fell on a weekday, as so many of our birthdays have a stupid habit of doing, so we celebrated down at Vibeke & Jørgen’s.

At work I won tickets for one of the loser bracket handball games being played at Royal Arena.

It turned out to be Korea (united) versus Saudi Arabia in a fight for 21st place. Not the most exciting match of the tournament, obviously, but Maddie and I were thrilled just to be attending what was, for both of us, our first professional handball match. Plus, PensionDanmark has VIP privileges at the arena, so we enjoyed all the perqs.

With just 44 seconds left, the announcer started explaining the tie-breaker procedure:

Unfortunately, in one of the stupidest handball plays I’ve ever seen — and remember, I’ve sat through games played by seven-year-olds — Saudi Arabia ended up sneaking in a last-second point for the win. And that was that.

One of the New Year’s Eve Kahoot questions (yeah, I did a New Year’s Eve kahoot, too) was the name of the crazy full moon we’d had in the winter of 2018.

This year, we had a Full Blood Wolf Moon in January. Yes, it will be on the quiz. Prove to me you pay attention, family, and let’s all get that question right next year!

In December 2010, Maddie turned two. Any reader of this blog knows as much.

So consider this: the January after that birthday saw the last AFC Championship without the Patriots that Maddie has ever known. They’ve been in there every single year since.

This year’s game was the third in a row the Patriots won.

Yeah, Edelman’s no-touch punt return. Worth a picture.

It had been clear and dry when Trine and I went to bed at the end of that game: we woke up a few hours later to something rather different.

I worked from home that Monday, and was very cozy toiling away on my computer while the snow swirled down outside. Among the many things I love about Denmark is the fact that far from keeping gym class indoors on account of the inclement weather, Molli’s gym class was taken out for a run around the lake.

Here’s Molli home fresh from her run — twenty minutes around the lake, not too shabby! And she’s actually smiling for me!