Christmas

I'm sitting here eating a ham sandwich, looking at the Christmas tree that's decorated with tiny blue lights, strands of silver garland, and various ornaments as I enjoy the sunlight streaming in through the front windows. The kitchen is so cluttered with ingredients and utensils that finding a place where I could slice the roll open was a challenge. I'm still not sure what my future nephew in law is getting for the "stocking" type of gift, but I'll think of something. And I'm truly in denial that tomorrow is Christmas.

Perhaps the denial has set in because I was working until around this time yesterday, and each day at work requires almost entire concentration upon the job at hand. I'm still not 100% after the bout with laryngitis and the cough that seemed to bring it on, so it was no wonder, after we spent half an hour in the spa, that I kept dozing on the couch, missing most of whatever television shows were amusing my spouse and our pup. I'd found enough energy the night before to bake several dozen cookies for my students who were in attendance on the last school day for 2009, but I haven't begun to wrap any gifts yet. There will be time enough.

Tomorrow, around this time, we'll be digesting Christmas dinner at the home of my sister who lives almost 2 hours south of us, and we'll be enjoying the gifts we've exchanged. The host sister has offered to help me extract the dead hard drive from my aging laptop, so that'll keep us busy while the others watch sports events on their new large screen television. Then it's back home again to liberate the dog who'll spend the day sleeping on the furniture, and who'll be so glad to see us that he'll even share his new squeaky toys with us.

The next day, around this time, we four siblings will be dining with Mom and her beau. Somehow, she was convinced that the lengthy drive to Sis2's house would be unpleasant enough for her that she'd be miserable the whole time she was there, and the tradeoff was luncheon at her favorite (although she complains about something on her plate each time she dines there) "Chinese" restaurant, just the six of us. I have the feeling that her boyfriend Bob might just announce that they've decided to get married, and that worries me a bit since none of us including Mom knows the details of his financial situation, his health, his track record. Another issue is that, if they decide to move in together, marriage or not, even her apartment which is larger than his isn't room enough for two people who each insist upon living conditions (eg. he has a cat and she's sensitive to them) that don't go over well with the other. On the other hand, this is her life. None of us can stop her decisions unless we have her declared incompetent, and that's not likely to happen for a variety of reasons. All we can hope is that her choices end up being good ones, as any parents hope for their children. Yes, that's where we are now: the child is father to the man, as they say. With luck, Saturday will be just a lovely luncheon and no other momentous occasion.

My sandwich is finished, the oven has beeped that it's preheated enough, and the kitchen calls to me. Perhaps listening to carols on the local radio station, munching candy canes, and baking our perennial favorites will give me a better sense of impending Christmas 2009. To anyone reading this, I hope yours is peaceful and joyous!