Mail-strom

Today has not gone well so far. This was my morning:
1. Drove to Hallmark store in freezing fog to buy a card to include in a gift I was sending. Yes, I know I've missed Christmas, but better late than never and I was waiting for just the right thing for my gbf.
2. Store closed.
3. Drove round to another store where I realised I had no cash. Decided it was silly to use a credit card for a $1 card (even though that's what Americans seem to do).
4. Drove to atm. Pushed card in. It was rejected, not because of any financial difficulties, but because that particular atm hates me. Took card out and threw it onto by bag in a huff.
5. Got in a temper. The post office closes early today for New Year's Eve!
6. Drove to another atm, cursing and fuming.
7. Went to take out card again and realised I didn't have it.
8. Searched bag.
9. Searched pockets.
10. Searched car.
11. Searched bag again.
12. Almost in tears of frustration and middle-age, I drove the mile back to first bank.
13. No, no one had handed it in.
14. Checked atm machine. Nothing.
15. Admitted defeat and rang Ross who probably put me on speaker phone so the entire department could hear me making a fool of myself.
16. Drove to Ross's office. Opened passenger door. Ross retrieved card from the back of the seat in 20 seconds. How did that get there?
17. Went into Ross's office for calming cup of coffee and comfort from Spike who made me realise it was all Ross's fault in the first place for taking what little cash I had had the day before.
18. Drove directly to post office.
19. Packaged gift and successfully sent it off without remembering to buy the card I had wanted in the first place!
So, to my gbf who hopefully will read this before the parcel arrives in time for next Christmas, if you get an anonymous gift in the mail, it's from me.

Screen Savours

In England, every cinema is much the same. Most are now multi-screen, you lug in a bucket of popcorn and a gallon of Coke and you're set.
But here, we seem to have more of a choice. Most are like those in England, but we also have an old flea pit where you can see films a few weeks old for around $3. Yesterday, we found another type when we went along to the Hollywood Boulevard cinema in nearby Woodridge with the Oracle, Rebecca of Sunnybrook Drive, Spike and Divine.
With a Hollywood theme, you could tell the difference on entering. After paying, we had to wait in a bar decorated with movie star concrete plaques a la Hollywood, photos of old movies, etc. Even the restrooms were marked Mothers and Normans.
"We have to make sure we get good seats," said the Oracle, pushing his way to the front of the line. "If you're not careful you may get left with a little round table with your back to the screen."
When the film was called he shot in like the most ardent sales shopper, only to find there was space available anywhere. Of course he would say that's because he got in early. (One of the reasons he's now known as the Oracle).
The main concept of this type of cinema, however, is that you eat whilst watching the film. Most of the seats are along bars in front of the screen. You have about 10 minutes to order your food before the show starts, then you eat it in the dark whilst watching.
It's a fun concept, if a little distracting as waitresses run around with plates of food while you're trying to concentrate on the action.
One tip however. Make sure you choose your movie carefully, and that you'll actually want to eat through it. We saw Sweeney Todd!
Fortunately they didn't have pies on the menu, but I hope the Oracle knew what he was doing when ordering chicken fingers!
All in all a great experience, once I had stopped feeling sick, that is.
For future showings they may want to consider the following menu options:
The Birds: Chicken wings
Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory: Chocolate bars
Brokeback Mountain: Beans, beautifully arranged on a pink tin plate
Charlie Wilson's War: Rations
The Three Musketeers: Candy bar
Memoirs of a Geisha: Sushi
American Pie: American Pie
The Jungle Book: Bananas
Jaws: Fish sticks
Atonement: Nothing (it helps to be Jewish to get that one)

Tea for Who?

As much as I love living the American Dream, sometimes it can be like the Twilight Zone. Today we drove to a little village called Long Grove, not far from Chicago. It was very picturesque, and only enhanced by yesterday's snowfall. Actually, that's not totally true. Clinging on to Ross for dear life as we walked towards one of the shops, I slipped on the ice, pulling us both down.
Anyhow, we recovered quickly enough to have lunch in one of the local eateries.
It was like stepping back in time, but not in a good way. It looked like the decor hadn't been touched since the 1970s, but as with most things here in the mid West, it was very pleasant.
Things started to get a bit odd when we noticed some of the ladies waiting for tables examining the wall display. It was lined with wide-brimmed straw hats, festooned with fabric flowers and ribbons.
It wasn't just that they were looking at them, it was that they put them on...and kept them on.
It was then we noticed another lady wheeling a harp into the room.
The ladies sat down, still wearing the hats. More people came to join them. Some little girls had their own straw hats. Even teenagers who looked perfectly normal, picked up hats and sat down to take photos of each other.
In the end we could stand it no longer and we asked the waitress what was going on.
"Afternoon tea," she smiled knowingly, as if she was solving the Da Vinci Code.
Being British, you might have thought the idea of tea would appeal to me, even if I had barely finished lunch. But seeing these Stepford Wives and their children was just plain wierd. And as far as I know, even in England, no one has taken afternoon tea in a hat since 1935.

Happy Easter!

Just to let you know that it's only the day after Christmas, yet this evening I saw Easter Egg lights on sale at American Sale. This has to be a world record. Even in England you couldn't get an Easter egg until after Valentine's Day.

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

Christmas Day began with breakfast at Bif and Buffy's...

Venus and Buffy find time to check today's Naperville Sun to see if I have given them a mention.
Next stop, first course of lunch at our friends' Rebecca of Sunnybrook Drive, and her husband Oracle.

Then off to our new English friends, the Duke and Duchess of Douglas Avenue, for some traditional British fare. For American readers, the pudding wasn't on fire, we pour brandy over it, then set it alight.

The Duke and Duchess enjoy pulling traditional British Christmas crackers.

A Christmas Story: Only in Naperville

Today I want to share with you a story typical of Naperville. A story that shows if you believe, anything can happen.
At 3 p.m. on Christmas Eve we were wandering around town on the ridiculous off chance that we could find a Ninetendo Wii. Obviously the whole idea was nuts. They are totally out of stock everywhere, and to be honest we didn't even want it for Christmas, we wanted it for the end of January when our son and his friends are coming to visit. We thought it would be a nice surprise for them, and also our daughter who is coming in April.
Anyhow, as we were rejected for the umpteenth time in a games store in downtown Naperville, a man came up to me and whispered in a low voice "what is it you want?"
Now, I knew it wasn't Santa. For one thing we'd left him and the Grinch in a highly decorated car outside in the street (don't ask, it's Naperville).
Expecting him to open his jacket and pull out a row of computer games, we left the shop. But as we crossed the road he followed us.
"Look," he said. "I have an extra Wii. My sister and I bought one on the same day. I was going to take mine back, but I thought it's Christmas, so I'd find someone who really needed one and make their holiday. I was going to ask at church tonight, but if you really need one, I have one."
"Well, we don't really need it today, but it would be great for my little boy's birthday in February," I said, not mentioning that he'll be 24.
"I can go and get it now if you want," he said.
Now, I know what you're thinking, and I was too. But let me explain one thing, maybe two. Firstly, he was soooo cute. (Not relevant, but he was). Secondly, this is Naperville. I know it sounds ridiculous, but in Naperville you can trust people. They are law abiding, helpful and almost child-like at times. If someone in London offered us such a thing we'd run, but here, if someone grants you a wish, or a Wii, on Christmas, you take it.
Anyhow, we paid the exact price he had paid (there was a receipt), we took it home, and it worked.

The moral of this story is either:
a) Never buy something that sounds too good to be true because it probably is.
b) In Naperville, at least, what goes around comes around, and if you look at the town through rose coloured glasses all that will happen is someone will offer to clean them for you.
These days, I prefer to go with the latter...

200th Entry: Happy Christmas!

If you can't beat 'em - join 'em! Here we are in the kitchiest get-ups we could find, and yes, we are going to dress like this all day today!

Shame on you if you are reading this on Christmas Day - haven't you got anything better to do?

If you have found the time, thanks so much for all your support this year. It's much appreciated. Feel free to leave a Christmas message for us and other readers.

Happy Holidays,

Hilary and Ross

Homes for the Holidays

Decorating your house for Christmas is so big here in Naperville, they even print a map to the best ones in the Naperville Sun. Here are just a few examples...

Pool Party!

Some of you may be surprised to learn that Ross is, in fact, a closet sportsman. He may not appear to be the athletic type, but in England he was a regular snooker player; something he has missed since moving here. So this week it was an emotional moment for him when we finally took delivery of our very own pool table. To us, if you want to live the American dream, a pool table in the basement is an essential ingredient.
Here's my "how to" guide for any other readers wishing to do the same...

1. Get the experts to do it! Even the kindest neighbour would have trouble lugging this lot down the stairs...
2. Make sure you have all the components before you start. (Ideally get the basement refinished properly first too, but I've lost that argument....for now)

3. Nail part A to part B, using screw 18a and bolt 45a. You only need to be able to read the instructions in Swedish if you buy from Ikea.

4. Prepare the base, remembering to look good at all times in case there's a photographer lurking.

5. Baton the base together while ignoring the photographer.

"Gee, she's getting on my nerves."

6. Next goes three panels of slate. I dunno, Ross wouldn't let me have slate tiles on the laundry room floor, but it's ok on top of a table!

7. I finally got a pool boy! He's a real one too. In the summer he fits swimming pools, in the winter, pool tables!

He must be the best. Turns out he once worked for a guy who is Stephen Hendry's American cousin!

(For those who don't know, Hendry was 7 time world snooker champion)

8.Glue the felt to the slate, pulling carefully to get rid of any bumps.

Just like pulling strudel dough really.

9. Stretch around the pockets..

10. Before stapling the edges and cutting off any unwanted material.

Make sure no apple is left laying around. Sorry, that's the strudel..

10. Don't take a picture now! My hand is stuck in the pocket.

11. And there she is...

Yes, I know there's a pillar in the way, but apparently we can get round that with a special little cue. I don't see why we couldn't just cut it down, but apparently it's holding the house up or something.....

Heard It Through The Grapevine...

How we got to sing and dance at in the Tamla Motown studios...

In England at least, Detroit is famous for two things. The Ford Motor Company and Motown. Attractive though walking around a car factor sounded, we opted for the latter and found ourselves transported back into history.

"I really want to head back," grumbled Ross as we pulled up to the Motown Museum.

"Look, it's tiny," I said as we pulled up alongside a two little houses. "It won't take long."

I shivered as I remembered some of our previous jaunts. There was the time I made Ross drive nearly 200 miles to the Ben and Jerry factory in Vermont just to get a free thimble of ice-cream. Then in England, where we travelled north to see the home of Beatrix Potter. Surprisingly Ross wasn't as excited as I was to see the actual vegetable patch Peter Rabbit used, or the tiny dingy cottage that we were in and out of in two minutes flat.

"You know this has cost has $10 each," he muttered as we hurried to join our tour guide.

But two hours later, we were saying "and this only cost us $10 each?

The museum itself is indeed small, lined mostly with photos and record album covers. There was a hat and sequined glove donated by Michael Jackson, and three Supremes dresses, but not much else.

However, what brought it alive was our guide, Mike, who couldn't have been more enthusiastic than if he were Berry Gordy's father.

He packed so much information into the tour I could have written a real article, had I brought along a note-book.

For example, did you know the Tamla in Motown came from the film Tammy because Gordy liked the name? That Baby Ruth candy bars were always kept in the same section of the vending machine so Stevie Wonder would know which handle to pull when he bought one? That the switchboard was manned by Martha Reeves (probably with the Vandellas singing behind her) and that all that wonderful music was recorded in a converted garage?

After the museum, we were led into the house itself, next door. Things were left pretty much as they would have been, with a tiny sixties office.

The studio was amazing. It was, in fact, an extended garage. The walls were lined with hardboard, you know the kind with little holes. We saw Stevie Wonder's vibraphone and drum kit, which I suppose is more than he ever did!

Anyhow, near the end of the afternoon, we were split into three groups to "perform" My Girl

Mike took the lead after showing us the steps to do, and we were all the backing singers. Thankfully they neither recorded nor videoed it, but we do have some great memories.

On the Edge

So back at the border we got out of the car and took papers, passports etc into the homeland security office. They were so welcoming.
"Get in line," they sneered as we entered.
So for 20 minutes we stood behind a motley bunch of Mexicans and orientals, watching nervously as they were called up and given the third degree. The place was decorated in a tasteful hardboard with fashionable black and white tiles on the floor. Just lovely.
They were so concerned for everyone's welfare that no one could use the toilet without permission, and no one was allowed to leave the building unless released.
A Mexican woman was being interviewed in a special room while her children ran round the room screaming as their dad ignored them. How lovely it is to hear little ones enjoying themselves.
Eventually it was our turn.
"Why am I looking at this?" asked the kindly American customs official as I gave him my passport. "You're ok til 2010."
It was only Ross who needed updating at this time. Phew. At least that meant I would be ok. I started to wonder how much the cab fare from Detroit to Chicago would be? Not too much. It's only just over 300 miles, after all.
But Ross was ok too. A few rubber stamps and $6 later, we were free to go.
What a relief! We headed off into Detroit and back towards our old/new lives. As we drove through the delightful derelict houses surrounding this old industrial town I noted that they hadn't yet had time to decorate their homes for Christmas. There were broken wire fences and hobos walking the streets. How wonderful to live in America!

Mountie Moose

Every mountie may get his man, but this is the only mountie this woman found...

Detroit Pix

Mountie-ing Concern

To be frank, I was a little concerned they let us out of the U.S so easily. No "please don't go," "come again soon", we just drove through the tunnel and out of the dream.
Immigration into Canada was ok-ish. We had to get out of the car, into the immigration office to get our passports stamped. We were desperate for the restrooms, which they had to buzz us into. (Obviously some very strange customs over this side of the border).
Unfortunately the light went out in Ross's almost as soon as he was inside, so he emerged a little ashen faced a few minutes later, but thankfully intact!
Ross opted to stay as close to the border as possible, so we're in Windsor, Ontario. At this moment we've only seen the hotel and the casino (don't ask), so more of that later. No mounties to be seen anywhere. How disappointing.
Exhausted from the six hour drive, we got to our room on the 18th floor and made a beeline for the window. The view was great. However, when we turned round the room was a bit of a shock.
"Who's been sleeping in my bed?" I asked Ross. "Look, the beds aren't made. And the bathroom's a mess too."
We rang down to the front desk, who said they'd be up with a new key.
For anyone who read yesterday's comments on the blog, all I can say it is lucky we had that hall pass. We had to wait around 20 minutes in the corridor for them to come with the new key!
Anyhow, the new room had an even better view. It was so good (pix to follow) it kept me up all night.
As I said, we're just over the border. On one side of the river is Ontario, the other Detroit. Detroit, from this side, looks stunning. Especially on a sunny winter's day with slabs of ice floating down the river in front of it.
What kept me awake was the fact that there was America all smiley and wavy, the star spangled banner fluttering in the breeze. And we've only come all this way so we can get back in.
Lovely though I imagine Canada is..there's no place like home.

Break for the Border

Tomorrow we're heading off for a couple of days. We've had enough of the snow here in Naperville, so we thought we'd go somewhere with nicer weather. Where did we pick? Canada!

Actually, the real reason is we have to renew our visa as Ross had to get a new passport recently. In order the get the visa stamped again, we have to leave the country, then come back.
Since the debacle of the social security numbers, I had forgotten about the wonderful red tape this country likes to tie itself up in.
So just to make sure everything works out ok this time, I am taking with me our passports, of course, the visa, my work permit, our marriage licence, my library card, a receipt from Jewel, this week's column cut out of the Naperville Sun, a letter from my piano teacher to say I can now play Heart and Soul (a life long ambition, I may add), an e mail from Mr Okano Gamoogoo from Bekena Vassa asking for money, a hall pass from Naperville North High School and a Christmas card from our realtor.
We should be back on Thursday, although I am taking my laptop to keep everyone updated. If it doesn't work out, guess we'll be living the Canadian Dream by Christmas.

Musical Interlude

My piano lessons are going well. Now that I can play Deck the Halls with two hands, but not, alas, at the same time, I decided to go along to hear how it should be done. So yesterday we went with Ross's colleague Spike and his wife Divine to the Chicago Symphony's Christmas concert in downtown Chicago.
(Reminder, blog characters rarely appear with their real names. This is to protect myself from any lawsuits. However, I retain the right to name them myself. There has been far too much talk lately about people coming up with their own names. Remember, if you want to be called something else, write your own blog!)
Resisting the temptation to ask how to get to symphony hall (answer: practise, practise, practise), we found the place without any trouble. It is a beautiful building right opposite Millenium Park. In the dark, with hundreds of fairy lights adorning surrounding the snowy trees, it was even more magical. The music started as soon as we entered the building. Even before we made it into the auditorium we heard choirs on every level.
For English readers, I suppose the Symphony Center is the equivalent of the Albert Hall. Finally, I thought, I have managed to push Ross into a bit of culture. An exquisite choral concert with a Christmas theme. Many of the audience were even in evening dress. This was going to be classy.
I forgot, of course, that we were in America. The concert was more Santa than Schubert. Even the Christmas carols were hard to pick out through the more popular seasonal songs like White Christmas and Silver Bells.
Having said that, it was lovely, although I do prefer to hear classical music without the distraction of 70s dancers, Santa Claus, and a comic Chicago policeman.
After the show we headed for a ritzy dinner at the top of the John Hancock building. We had an hour to spare, so Spike thoughtfully pretended to get lost as he spent 30 minutes driving around the same two blocks. Personally, I would have liked more cocktail time, but considering the strength of the one I eventually got, it was probably just as well.
Final Tip: If you order a special in a restaurant, do check the price first. That way you won't end up paying $66 for a tiny bowl of pasta with a couple of mouthfuls of lobster.

Snow Joke

With a fresh 6" fall of snow overnight, I awoke to find this thoughtful gift waiting outside my bedroom window. No snowblower for me...in a bit of one upmanship against my neighbours, I have my own personal snow plow!

Getting on Famously: The Sequel

Finally proof I am famous! I am now listed on a local website as 'Hilary, Famous Featured Blogger.
My crusade for self-publicity is reaching dizzying heights this week. Today I was even asked to speak to others at a meeting in the new year discussing how to become famous. Like Paris Hilton, I'm going to be famous for being famous, having actually achieved virtually nothing at all!

So while my meglomania is being fed, here are a few more plans I see for the new year. I'll let you know how they go...

1. The Decents:
A reality show covered by local station NCTV17 showing Ross and I doing really exciting things like watching TV and cleaning the kitchen. (Man, that granite is annoying).
2. The Hilary for President Campaign
...Or maybe someone else is doing that.
3. I Love Hilary:
A black and white sit-com in which I cry hysterically whilst getting into terrible scrapes. Ross tries not to get too exasperated while keeping down his job as world famous computer consultant, or whatever it is he actually does.
4. The Tonight Show with Hilary Decent.
In which I do an hour's stand up routine only occasionally interupted by guests who vie for attention. They lose.
5. Meal or No Meal?
Watch the Decents struggle with their new year's diet.
6. Guest on a national chat show.
This should be easy. There was a chap on Ellen this week who got on simply because he devised a web-site campaign. Turned out he could sing and play the guitar pretty well. Guess I could play Twinkle Twinkle with one hand.
Well that's all for now. Must go. The paparazzi are knocking. I'd love to go and meet them, but my head will no longer fit through the door.

Office Party

Ross and I have been attending C.A. Christmas parties for the past 20 years. They are always lavish black tie affairs with around 1,000 people attending. Sometimes they were in a top London hotel. When Ross was working in Paris, their Christmas party was a James Bond casino evening.
I was particularly excited to go to our first party here. It was fun, although more low key than we were used to, but when in Rome...hmm wonder what their party is like? Might have to try that next year.

Ben, left, is surprised to win the prize for the best dressed person there. The guy in the sweater tries to conceal his disappointment.
Ben and Spike arrive at the party direct from a Christmas shopping trip.

"Great. Three cups of soup for me thanks. I'm starving."

Getting on Famously

In my ever continuing efforts to become the Victoria Beckham of Naperville, this evening I attended an open evening at the Naperville Sun. Unfortunately they didn't make a point of asking me. I had to invite myself when a fan, yes I have the odd one, asked if I was going. So I spruced myself up and went along, waiting to be recognised.
An elderly lady in a Christmas sweater approached me almost as soon as I walked in the room. Unfortunately I was busy being distracted by the chocolate fountain running in the corner.
"Hallo," she said. "It's me."
"Me?" I thought I was the famous one.
"I was the one who e mailed you."
"Oh," I snapped into celebrity mode. "How nice to meet you."
We had a quick chat and I looked around to see who was next in line. Of course there was no one, although I did spy an entire boy scout group queuing up at the fountain. I'd obviously missed my chance there.
Things picked up towards the end of the evening, when I was finally recognised by a representative from the local TV company NCTV17. Unfortunately she didn't immediately offer me my own chat show, but she did say she'd be happy to show me around the studios. Watch this space....

Chanukah Party Pix

Some people are so impatient. The photos would have been up sooner, but it's taken us all day to clear up!

The hosts with the most. We'll be back dieting as usual on January 1st!
Ross succeeds at dreidl. Pity all his winnings were chocolate!

The guests were so worried about my cooking, some of them even made their own cookies for us!

The local meeting of Gamblers Anonymous got off to a flying start...

"I'd like one of those for Chanukah when I grow up," thinks Lex, eying up the lovely Michelle.

Fortunately Jett only has eyes for me.

Ben smiles gleefully, unaware Lou is gambling away all their life savings.

Buffy and Venus laugh as they plot their next venture for Hilary's column.

Gamblers Anonymous bet they can play dreidl without losing.

"I made a little dreidl, I made it out of clay." Ross sings the traditional Chanukah song, hoping nobody notices it's made out of plastic.

Buffy and Michelle laugh over the latkes.

As the party continues, Lou wonders about the link between Chanukah and a Japanese gong.

A traditional Chanukah table, complete with chanukiah - the eight branch candlestick, one for every day of the holiday.

Inside the house we were warm and cosy. Outside lay around 6" of snow. Still, it saved making ice to keep the wine cold!

It's My Party and I'll Fry If I Want To...

This week we've been celebrating Chanukah. Being away from our family, we decided to start a new tradition, so we held our first annual Chanukah party. Like missionaries, we decided to educate the good folk of Naperville in traditional Chanukah activities.
Of course most important in any Jewish festival is the food (apart from Yom Kippur of course when you can't eat anything).
Personally I would have the whole thing catered by our local Jewish style deli, but this wasn't good enough for Ross. In the absence of my brother and sister-in-law, professionals who set a very high level for our summer barbecue, it was left to me to do the best I could.
For weeks we've been running around town trying to find the best meats, donuts etc. I must have put on 4lbs just trying the different donut shops to find the closest to the little round jam donuts we have in England.
I have spent all week making latkes to get them just right. Latkes are potato pancakes fried in oil. In England I confess I used to buy them frozen, but now, in my new role as Desperate Jewish Housewife, I have to grate pounds of potatoes and onions.
Now what may surprise those of you know who know Ross and I personally, is that although we are all sweetness and light on the surface, when we're on our own we bicker about everything.
I know, it's hard believe, but true.
After the donuts and latke row, it was the chocolate coins.
"These don't even look like coins," he moaned, as he opened the bag with Chocolate Coins written on the front. "You might as well put out Elizabeth Shaw Mint Crisps".
"They're American," I grizzled, up to my arms in latke mix, oil dripping down the walls. "Maybe they're dollars."
The festive Chanukah tablecloth was no good either. Fancy a paper cloth being too "papery"? We had to run out on the morning of the party to get a real one. Actually, I didn't mind this too much. At least we finally have a real table to put it on.
Oh, and don't forget the mantel piece..
For any new readers a quick recap here. When we bought our house earlier this year we gave our builder Matt (aka Jett to Naperville Sun readers) the task of remodelling the entire house in six weeks because we had a housewarming/birthday party already planned.
He did a brilliant job of finishing everything....apart from the mantel piece in the family room.
On the scheme of things at the time this didn't matter at all. Since then he has indeed fitted the shelf, but hadn't got round to staining it.
On Wednesday I emailed him, saying, just for old times sake, that we were having another party, and could he manage to finish the shelf in time?
As last time I invited him to the party so he would be able to show off his handywork. You never know who needs a mantel piece, do you?
By the morning of the party the shelf was stained, but not varnished. I knew Jett wouldn't let me down, but with every latke I flipped out of the pan, the more worried I became.
With Ross helping in the best way he could, by leaving me alone for four hours while he got the car serviced, I texted Jett with "Have you forgotten something?"
"Oh, #@*!," he replied, "I'll be there as soon as I can."
By 8 p.m. the shelf was dry and 2 gallons of latke mixed was scraped of the worktop (whose idea was it to have impossible to clean granite anyway? Oh yes, Jett's. I guess it's ok then.)
Our guests arrived and the party, if I say so myself, was a huge success. We explained the story of Chanukah, lit candles, sang in Hebrew and everyone played dreidl with the chocolate coins.
Unfortunately we ran out of latkes, but you can't have everything....

Winter Wonderland