While it is true that I kept a poinsettia alive all year only to kill it at Christmastime, I do have a tiny rose just now opening in a pot here on Christmas Eve. The Exotic Angels are doing a blooming dance of joy, as well, and there's new burst of blue lobelia. The pale pink begonias in the once-hanging pots just keep opening, all of these in a row on woven straw mats in the sunshine of the patio doors, taking the spot once reserved for shoes and boots, which are grudgingly clumped here and there on rugs and in corners. Oh, forgive me, shoes and boots and the feet who wear them!
7-Minute frosting at Food Network is essentially it, and I will take Alton Brown's advice to beat the frosting over the simmering water, and to use the frosting itself (instead of strawberry or raspberry preserves) between layers. Also, my cake has two layers instead of four. Why am I baking a cake from scratch and making boiled icing on a Slattern Day? Because it's Christmas Eve! (But I did not smash an actual coconut, so I think I can still claim to be a true slattern. Also, you should see the thin layer of flour on my kitchen floor.)
Happy and sweet holidays to you. Peace and goodwill.