Boxing Day

 

The yarn lady was up early on Boxing Day, already thinking of what she’d need to do before the Jólasveinarnir arrived that evening. She started out with shopping for the ingredients for tonight’s “feast” of pylsur and crispy onions. As she checked out she regretted the idea of offering to host thirteen hungry trolls for dinner. She was sure not all would show up, but just in case she needed to have enough for all of them, so she had a LOT of meat in her cart. The good thing was that she could repurpose it to be meatloaf if there was meat left over.

She spent the afternoon crafting the remoulade and sweet mustard and then mixing the pork, beef and lamb for the pylsur. She unearthed a bag of skewers to use to grill the not-quite-sausages, checked to make sure she had enough plates and sat down to read until they arrived.

The Jólasveinarnir arrived a little after 6:30pm. The yarn lady knew they’d need to wait until there was no sun left in the sky, lest a stray sunbeam reflected onto one and turned him to stone. When she went to answer the door she saw  Kertasníkir (the candle stealer), Ketkrókur (meat hook), Gáttaþefur (the doorway sniffer), Gluggagægir (the window peeper), Bjúgnakrækir (the sausage stealer), Hurðaskellir (who carved doorstops to keep doors from slamming) and Giljagaur (the milk drinker). Seven out of thirteen was pretty good. Kertasníkir explained that most of the earlier trolls were having a party with some of the folks at Destiny’s Bridge, but it would involve lots of alcohol and ones here weren’t interested in spending an evening getting drunk and sharing stories. Askasleikir had decided last night to head back to Ísland early. He said his job was done here and that he was resigning, effective immediately. He said he was going to look into getting a job as a brú troll. The other trolls then made snide jokes at how he was much more suited to be the mean troll who hid under bridges and asked people trick questions like “What is the weight of a sparrow?” The yarn lady laughed at that. She wished that MR had been able to come over to meet the trolls, as she might have found that joke as funny as she did.

She explained to the trolls that she would be setting up a camp grill in order to cook their dinner and invited them to all take seats. The trolls and cats started a conversation about what the life of a house cat was like here in New Jersey. The yarn lady headed to the kitchen and Kertasníkir followed. She told them she had all the makings for pylsur and his face fell. It turned out the trolls had been looking forward to some real American cooking. The yarn lady buried her face in her hands. Yes, she could make meatloaf with all the meat, but not in time for dinner any time soon. Would the trolls like Oscar Meyer wieners she asked? Kertasníkir answered that it would be perfect. Their pylsur were nowhere near as good as and American hot dogs.

The yarn lady grabbed a package out of the fridge and began to cook them up. In about 20 minutes she had the hot dogs, rolls and a full selection of condiments (including the sweet mustard and remoulade) on the table along with the crunchy fried onions.

Everyone grabbed a hot dog and some crunchy onions and for a few minutes the only sound was chewing and a discreet belch or two. The yarn lady was surprised at the number of hot dogs these trolls could eat. Yeah, they like their Oscar Meyer wieners, she thought. 

As they were finishing, she asked them what they’d thought about their time here in New Jersey. The smiles faded from their faces and they looked at each other, wondering who dared to speak. Finally Ketkrókur (the meat hook guy without a meat hook) sighed and said, “This has been a disaster. People don’t know about the Jólasveinarnir, and when they think of trolls they think of bridge trolls, Shrek or those cute little dolls with the colorful hair. We’re none of them for sure, and to be honest we’re a lot closer to the bridge trolls than anything from a kids movie. We’ve agreed that we’ll go back and bring our case to the summer gathering to stop being Jólasveinarnir, or at least to let those who don’t want to be allowed to do something else. To be honest, the folks at Destiny’s Bridge have invited us to stay, and they’re a great bunch of folks most of the time. The trouble is they’ve said that sooner or later the town will come in and break up the camp and everyone will have to move on. That’s no way to live, and those folks agree. Most of them would prefer to live in a house, but they can’t deal with rubbing up against too many people. They’ve tried shelters and the lack of privacy there or in some congregate housing doesn’t work for them.

“As I told BC and Sparky, I intend to enroll at Háskólinn á Akureyri and study Social Sciences to learn to help us develop a new purpose for our lives. If Gryla doesn’t agree, well our section of caves is far enough away from where she lives that I can be convincingly somewhere else if she drops by occasionally. I plan to come home on weekends and she can find me then or I’ll go visit. If need be we’ll lie and sneak around behind her back until we’re ready to make a complete break with the clan at Dimmuborgir.”

The yarn lady listened to this with an open mouth. She thought she’d need to convince the group to rethink their purpose, but they’d already decided they needed to on their own. One after the other, each of them discussed their possible plans for their return. The candle stealer wanted to find an environmental group to work with, the door sniffer would apprentice himself to a master baker, the window peeper would be looking for a homeless outreach to work with, as he’d listened to many of the seniors’ stories at Destiny’s Bridge and figured it would be even worse in Ísland. The carver of door stoppers already had a trade, so he was already set, and the milk stealer would look for a dairy that needed someone who was good with cows, as he was very good at milking cows.

When they finished telling the yarn lady their plans Gluggagægir looked hopefully at Clementine and Ursula, who were perched on a long pillow in front of the dresser. “The only thing left to make our life perfect would be if perhaps one of you kitties would choose to return to Ísland with us. We’ve all been charmed by your personalities and your care for your humans. Might one of you consider moving to Dimmuborgir to live with us in our lava caves?

The yarn lady answered before the cats could even come up with a polite refusal.  “Oh, Gluggagægir, and all of you, the cats have become quite fond of you, but they can’t possibly go with you. The rules for bringing animals into your country would leave them in quarantine for weeks all by their lonesome. I’m sure there are kittens for adoption there, especially if you wait until late spring. That’s when there are generally more kittens than anyone can deal with!” As she spoke, the cats had stood up and were making their way around the room, greeting each of the trolls with a rub or a paw touch.

On this note, Ketkrókur rose and thanked the yarn lady for her hospitality and the cats for their welcome and friendship. He said they’d be returning to Ísland within the next few days, as there was no tradition here to uphold of Jólasveinarnir pulling their pranks for a two week period after their first visit. 

The yarn lady shook hands with each of the trolls, and hugged Ketkrókur. She wished them all well for their return trip and their endeavors in the future. She handed Ketkrókur a slip of paper with some email addresses and names on it – hers, Clementine’s and BC’s. “Keep in touch if you can, and Góð jól!”

December 25th

 

FROM: Ande <adlp@optonline.net>

TO:       Dotsie <dotsiefly@birdtlover.com>

DATE:  12/25/23 9:15 am

RE:       Jólasveinarnir

Hi, as probably already know, I've invited the Jólasveinarnir over for dinner on Boxing Day. It appears this new group on their maiden trip of Jól pranks is having an identity crisis. The last two nights they've shared how they feel they need to redefine their purpose in life. I thought perhaps if they came for dinner we could have a discussion about this if they like. You've been to Iceland, so I have two questions for you - what might they like for dinner, and  do you have any ideas as to how the Jólasveinarnir could be re-imagined so they can have an enjoyable and useful future?

 

FROM: Dotsie <dotsiefly@birdtlover.com>

TO:       Ande <adlp@optonline.net>

DATE:  12/25/23 9:15 am

RE:       Re: Jólasveinarnir

"Traditional Icelandic foods are not for the faint of heart" said an article that included sheep's head (svid), sour ram's testicles (hrutspungar) and fermented shark fins (hakarl). However, it went on, those older foods have fallen by the wayside. But you'll find Iceland folks eating dishes with fish, like a good fish stew with traditional dark rye bread, or dishes with lamb, such as smoked lamb. Your jolly Jola crowd, however, will probably love pylsur, the Icelandic hot dog.

https://theplanetd.com/icelandic-food/

 

FROM: Ande <adlp@optonline.net>

TO:       Dotsie <dotsiefly@birdtlover.com>

DATE:  12/25/23 9:15 am

RE:       Re: Re: Jólasveinarnir

Wow, they have some really gross foods. No sour ram testicles for me, that’s for sure. Even if I could find them, I wouldn’t make them. The pylsur sounds like a good idea. I found a great recipe for them at https://cookingrabbit.blogspot.com/2017/04/pylsur-icelandic-hot-dog.html. I hope I have enough time tomorrow to make these, or they’ll end up with Oscar Meyer wieners!

  

FROM: Clementine <princessclementine@kittymail.com>

TO:       BC & Sparky <rudytoots@catlover.com>

Cc:       Archie <pupsupreme@whosagoodboy.com>

DATE:  12/25/23 3:15 am

RE:       Trolls for dinner!

The yarn lady has invited the trolls over for dinner on Boxing Day, which apparently is the day after Christmas, and has nothing to do with prizefighters. Your human, MR is invited also. I hope she can come. The yarn lady wants to see if the trolls will talk about what they might do with their lives other than being Jólasveinarnir. Some of them might be able to pass as human, but not all of them. Who knows if they’d even want to? See if MR will bring you with her when she comes tomorrow! We could have a jolly Boxing Day and have our own boxing matches while they eat!

 

FROM: Archie <pupsupreme@whosagoodboy.com>

TO:       BC & Sparky <rudytoots@catlover.com> Clementine <princessclementine@kittymail.com>

DATE:  12/25/23 4:47 am

RE:       Did you have a visitor last night?

I’m happy the yarn lady invited the trolls over, I think. It could be interesting, though I bet they have terrible table manners. Did you have a visit by a giant black cat last night who asked if you’d got clothes for Christmas? That happened to Benji, Pepper and Lenny when they were here eight years ago. That cat tried to kill them because they hadn’t been given clothing! Cats don’t WEAR clothing for sheesh sake. I hope you have a great Christmas. Robbie and Eric are both here and I’m so happy. I love my boys, even though they are middle aged men now.

December 24th

 

It was almost Christmas Eve and the cats were happily anticipating Christmas, if only because there would be no new trolls popping in each night. The treats and little gifts were nice, but it was nicer to know that there would not be intruders who might or might not be pleasant guests. So far only the bowl licker had been downright mean and rude, and it seemed like the Jólasveinarnir had shared the information about the cats with ones who hadn’t visited yet, and the visits were much more pleasant. Tonight’s troll was Kertasníkir, who stole your candles to eat them. The cats had discussed this very early this morning via email. Eating candles probably made sense nine hundred years ago when they were made out of animal fat, but now they were made from all sorts of wax, from paraffin to soy or coconut. Paraffin is made from petroleum, so it was definitely out for eating. The other types were at least marginally edible, but the cats figured they’d taste terrible. Years ago, Clem had nibbled a candle the yarn lady had on the table and it was tasteless and hard to chew. They discussed whether or not to try to find a few candles to leave out, or perhaps just go to sleep and ignore the whole thing.

BC and Sparky, the Jackson cats, opted for bed, saying they didn’t think there was a single candle in the house, except maybe an old birthday candle in a drawer. Clem and Ursula knew there were many candles around their condo, but most were scented, except some emergency ones. Candles don’t come with labels, once their package was opened, so there was no way to know what type of wax they were. Clem decided to put whatever ones she could find on the counter.

It was probably around 3am when the yarn lady woke up to use the bathroom. The light wouldn’t turn on, but her ocean noise was still playing, so the power wasn’t out. She felt her way to the end of the bed and pulled the cord for the overhead light, but it wouldn’t go on either. Sighing, she felt her way to the bathroom, and that light wouldn’t work either. She gave a little scream and yelled, “Enough is enough!” She heard footsteps approaching, and one of the Jólasveinarnir approached with a miner’s lamp on his head and an LED lightbulb in his hand. She glared at him and he lowered his head and sighed.

“I apologize, my timing is terrible tonight. If you don’t mind?” She stepped back and Kertasníkir screwed the bulb in the socket. “There, that is much better for the environment than that antique bulb you had in there.” He smiled encouragingly.

“You. Replace the other bulbs while I use the bathroom, and then we need to talk.” The yarn lady closed the door behind her and Kertasníkir scurried around putting new lightbulbs in the lamps he’d removed the offending bulbs from. He carefully put the old bulbs in a box he had put on the dining table and sat down to wait.

The yarn lady emerged, gave him a stern look and sat down. The Jólasveinarnir looked nothing like what she expected. She’d heard them most nights for the last week and a half but pretended sleep to let them get on with their tasks. He wore a long-sleeved tie-dye t-shirt and jeans. His long hair was in dreadlocks and he had a colorful knit hat on his head. “So, who are you? The environmentally conscious troll who happens to be a fan of the Grateful Dead?”

Kertasníkir looked confused. “I am a fan of the living and wish the world to live long enough for me to last out my exceptionally long lifespan. The dead may be grateful, but I won’t be if Ísland’s glaciers melt. So, instead of stealing non-existent inedible candles, I change lightbulbs to energy efficient ones. He held up the fancy bulb from the bathroom and very efficient but ugly LED bulb. “This will last four times as long and use much less electricity.”

The yarn lady held out her hand for her Edison bulb. “However inefficient this may look, it’s an LED masquerading as an incandescent bulb. I chose this for its look but didn’t ignore the science.” Kertasníkir looked embarrassed, apologized and hurried to put the Edison bulb back in the fixture. When he returned the yarn lady asked, “So, how has your trip to New Jersey been? I know what you’ve told the cats, as I read their emails about you all.

Kertasníkir sighed. “Ketkrókur and I have talked a lot over the past twelve days. He is right, it is not feasible to continue our traditional pranking. It barely works in Ísland, where the people expect us and it is more of a game. Fewer people live in the traditional villages or in any building we can get into. Many of you live in houses in this country, but most of them do not have the younger children. We’ve found some good neighborhoods, but too many are like this where everyone is, pardon me, old. I doubt Gryla will agree to disbanding the Jólasveinarnir, so I fear we will resort to deceit in years to come, telling her we have done the tasks, but meanwhile having a nice vacation somewhere warm. Honestly, other than lying to Langamma, it sounds like an enjoyable way to pass a few weeks at the start of the hard winter.”

The yarn lady shook her head sadly. There were so many traditions that hadn’t survived the changing times. Some, like slathering yourself in oil and lying in the sun for hours were plain unhealthy, others such as kids having a newspaper route were deemed unsafe. “How about you and the other Jólasveinarnir come over for dinner on the 26^th? I’ll invite MR and we can talk about whatever comes to mind. You won’t have to steal your dinner at least for that one night.” She laughed at her own humor.

 Kertasníkir thanked her and said he’d convey the invitation. Probably not everyone would want to come, but he was sure that at least Ketkrókur would come. As he headed for the front door, the troll slipped some pouches of the food his friend had left last night into the two sneakers. It had gone over so well that he figured a repeat would be appreciated.

The yarn lady looked at the clock. It was 4am, but happily it was only Christmas eve, so she could sleep as late as she liked. As she lay down in bed and pulled the covers over her she said to Clementine, “I know you’re not asleep. I hope you don’t mind that I asked the trolls to dinner on Boxing Day. It should be interesting.