Another interpretation of the same design as I did a month ago. Sharing the same principles, somewhat: aiming for the rectangles to be dominant without resorting to full applique, but this time allowing myself to use tulle. Lines for the ovals. Something opaque for the small filled-in oval.

It’s funny how differently we value things. The others in my embroidery group were gushing over the embroidered tulle, admiring its cleverness and unique look, while for me that was the lowest-effort part of the piece. It was like mindless doodling with yarn and thread: start at a corner, follow the structure of the fabric, “bounce” when you hit an edge, stop before there is too much of it. Almost mechanical. I literally chose it the other week because I was tired and couldn’t be bothered to be creative. I myself was much more proud of my very even feather stitch, and the woven oval as a nifty way of making something very covering without applique, and those got no notice.

Christmas baking will be happening this weekend. I’m not sure if I’ll get around to vörtbröd – probably not, because lussebullar and gingerbread cookies will have priority – but in case I do, I am all set with wort extract.

Wort extract can be bought online, and I know some breweries sell it as well. I went to Stockholms Aeter & Essencefabrik, conveniently located just a few blocks from my city office. Shelf after shelf of jarred spices, tiny vials of mysterious “essences”, and containers of all sorts of other things. If I ever need orange flower essence or dried chamomile, I now know where to go.

Less exotic, but about as unusual for me to buy as wort extract, was a small bottle of brandy. Of which I intend to never take a single sip, but it is necessary both for mincemeat and for brandy sauce to serve with the Christmas pudding.

For a couple of weeks, Nysse was particularly hungry, almost obsessed with food. Normally he gets his three servings of dry food, and cheap cat-quality canned tuna whenever he asks for it. Now he’s been trying to steal ingredients while I cook, and even try and sneak food from my plate on the kitchen table when I look away. I don’t know what it was, but I’m glad it looks like we’re leaving that period behind us.

We do generally have an agreement about what parts of the kitchen we share and which parts are off-limits for him. The sink, and anything to the left of it, is no man’s land. Anything in the sink is free for him to taste, or eat. (I make sure to keep the sink cat-safe whenever he’s nearby, and we all know not to re-use any bowl or utensil that’s been in the sink.)

To the right of the sink is the humans’ domain, no cats allowed. Having access to a small part of the kitchen counter and occasionally getting a taste of what’s there seems to satisfy his curiosity and cravings – he doesn’t normally try to encroach upon the parts that I’ve decided are not for him.

He has odd favourites. Like, everyone knows that cats love dairy: he licks tubs of quark and crème frâiche so clean that they almost sparkle. But Nysse also loves canned tomatoes and tomato sauces; grainy/mealy things like oatmeal porridge and bread dough; and – most surprisingly for me – the liquid around canned beans and chickpeas.

For Adrian, I continue our tradition of daily chocolate toffees from Åre Chokladfabrik – a mixture of their Christmas toffees, saffron toffees, and salted caramel toffees. Except this year I only fill the pockets for every other week.

Ingrid asked for something weekly instead – daily sweets would be too much sugar, and daily anything would be too much to keep up with. So she gets a classical Christmas-themed short story and a Christmas-themed loose-leaf tea every Sunday in advent.

I occasionally vaguely consider giving myself an advent calendar of my own – there are even yarn advent calendars – but always decide against it. I generally don’t want more stuff in my life, and the stuff do I buy, I’m picky about. I buy with purpose. Random yarn, no matter how pretty, would be wasted on me. Chocolates, cheeses, liqueur… yarn, seeds, whatever – same. Something like the short stories that I got for Ingrid would possibly be the only exception.