Don't Let Me Interrupt

I was upstairs washing my face and cleaning up a little after dinner, and when I opened the door to go downstairs I heard raised voices below. Heidi, her brother, and parents were having a little argument about sex, the church, and marriage. "That's called fornication," Mark said forcefully, and all of a sudden? I didn't need to go downstairs anymore. So I tip-toed back into my room and quietly closed the door.

What is Christmas?

This year our family holiday traditions were upended tail over tea kettle, and in the days leading up to Christmas there were several earnest and somewhat emotional discussions about how and when things should happen. In the end, like Charlie Brown's Christmas pageant, everything turned out just right. The truth is, with the spirit of the season and our abiding love for each other, we couldn't fail.

Merry Christmas everybody!

Sounds Like Fun

We have only opened our stockings, but so far a big hit of this holiday has been the hand held sound effect machine that 9-year-old Richard got. With 16 options ranging from applause to farting it's entertaining on its own, but when we invented a little game where someone asks a question that must be answered by pressing one of the buttons, things got really hilarious.

Treat: Why is there something rather than nothing?
Richard: Bomb falling and exploding

Me: How do you feel about your brother?
Annabelle: Loud belching sound

And then she whipped out the tiny pink water pistol she got from her Christmas cracker aimed it at Richard and punched the sound of a weapon loading and firing.

Do You See What I See?

You do if you're looking at turducken. Which incidentally, as Bill observed, looks exactly like the roast beast they serve down in Whoville. 

The Prettiest Sight You'll See

I have been looking for the ideal location to string that extra set of mini LED lights since the 2-pack arrived a couple of weeks ago. The first one festoons the window behind my desk at school, and I like it so much there that it will continue to blink merrily all throughout the year. But the second set sat forlornly on the dining room table until last night, when it occurred to me that a table-top tree for the apartment our neighbor has so kindly lent my sister and her family would be the perfect place for it.

And that's what we did: there was a cute little balsam with colorful lights aglow waiting for them when they pulled in from Atlanta at 1:30 last night. The paper reindeer with the handprint antlers that Annabelle presented to me then was an instant tree-topper, and this morning we made ornaments from shrinky dinks. Sure, I've seen a lot of pretty trees this year, but this one? Is definitely in the top three.

A Christmas Past

I am a freshman in college, thousands of miles from my family, feeling all alone in a tiny town in upstate New York. A high school buddy of my dad's is the principal of the local school, though, and sometimes I babysit for his three children. On this December night, after the kids are in bed, rather than study for exams as I should, I snap on the TV. Sitting in a family living room rather than surrounded by the cinder block walls of my dorm room seems so normal, that I can't resist. I don't need to turn the knob far to find what I want to watch-- John Denver and the Muppets are in the middle of a corny version of The Twelve Days of Christmas, and for the next hour Home seems a little closer.

When it's time to go home in a couple of weeks, I bring the soundtrack album with me, and over the next thirty-five years it becomes a family classic in all its goofy, sappy splendor, but the show itself is lost, never released to be viewed again...

Until tonight, that is. Last year I ordered a bootleg copy from some sketchy internet pirate, and although it didn't arrive in time for Christmas then, I have it now, and true it's blurry and quite dated, but I am not disappointed.

Selective

I hung the last of the ornaments on the Christmas tree today, and as I worked, I took a moment to admire each one in our collection. It was with pleasure that I placed the hiking boot, the loon, the snow shoes, and all the curly white dogs. As I found a place of honor for both the pencil and the pen, I noted that there was no computer, phone, or tablet, and I knew then, in my curator's heart, that there never would be.