In the Nick of Time

We ran errands today: Christmas exchanges, New Year's groceries, and a few other more prosaic items. But most importantly, we bought our 2020 wall calendars-- which was a good thing, because the other ones are running out tonight!

Running Late, but Still Expected

The sun was out and the rain was coming down when I left the gym around noon. I did a quick 360 scan for the expected rainbow, but seeing nothing hurried to my car and headed off to the grocery store.

And then:

50 Words for Rain

According to Wikipedia:

The claim that Eskimo languages (specifically, Yupik and Inuit) have an unusually large number of words for "snow", first loosely attributed to the work of anthropologist Franz Boas, has become a cliché often used to support the controversial linguistic-relativity hypothesis that a language's structure (sound, grammar, vocabulary, etc.) shapes its speakers' view of the world. This "strong version" of the hypothesis is largely now discredited...

That may well be, but after an 8 hour, 400 mile road trip with rain, mist, torrential downpour, fog, inland squall, low clouds, drizzle, and road spray the entire way, I think I have an unusually large number of words for wet weather.

But? Believe it or not, they aren't all profanities. Especially since at this time of year it could have all been snow.

Who Was Happier to See Who?

Was it Heidi or Lucy?

Upon being reunited after a three-day separation, Heidi didn't whimper and jump for joy, but that smile was huge.

I'd say it was a draw.

And, fortunately? They will not be parted again for the foreseeable future.

Season of Darkness, Season of Light

A week or so ago I read an op/ed piece in the NYTimes that resonated with me. Entitled Want to Get into the Spirit of Christmas? Face the Darkness, the author Tish Harrison Warren, an Anglican priest, makes an eloquent case for using Advent as it was meant to be: a season to recognize the short days and long nights leading up to Christmas as an opportunity for contemplation and meditation of the darkness in our lives in order to prepare for the light that Christmas promises.

As she says, "Advent holds space for our grief, and it reminds us that all of us, in one way or another, are not only wounded by the evil in the world but are also wielders of it, contributing our own moments of unkindness or impatience or selfishness."

This year, the loss of my mother has sombered the season for me. The holidays have been both warm and sad, and the notion of Advent holding a space for my grief rings true. But, as Warren also points out, tradition provides twelve days of celebration following Christmas. This awareness also pleases me and fills the emptiness that torn wrapping paper, clearance sales, and early Valentines Day displays may hollow out.

And this morning when my brother and his family were heading back home, my nephew Treat said, "Another Christmas is over," in a sweet sorrow kind of a way.

But when I pointed out that, in some traditions, there were actually 9 more days of celebration left, he quickly adjusted.

"Well, then," he said, "I guess another Christmas has just begun."

The Spirits of Christmas

Ever since we were children, our Christmas dinner has been roast beef and gravy, mashed potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, and a green vegetable, a delicious, but somewhat time-consuming meal. In this year of change, we have each chosen to hold on to some of our traditions while setting others aside, perhaps until later, perhaps for good.

When it came time to cook our holiday meal, my brother wisely suggested a streamlined version of our old standard. Mild weather encouraged us to grill rib-eyes in place of the standing roast, and potatoes Anna replaced their mashed brethren. A tossed salad with shaved winter vegetables, arugula, and lemon vinaigrette completed the meal. Oh, and there was Yorkshire pudding, too.

The meal, while different, was delicious, and definitely captured the spirit of our Christmases past. Gathered around the huge dining room table, ten of us popped crackers and toasted both the year ending as well as the one ahead.

It wasn't as merry as some of our past holidays, but it was definitely a celebration, and there was a even flicker of more festive times to come.

Ride Share, Chapter 2

I didn't really feel like talking at 4:15 in the morning, but I didn't want to be rude to our Uber driver either, and so I asked if he had been busy this early Christmas morning.

"The holidays are always busy," he said, "but I work the overnights anyway."

"Do you have a day job, too?" I asked.

He confessed that he did not; he was in between jobs and taking some online courses, making ends meet by driving a ride share, and waiting for the next thing.

"Do you drive at night because it's more lucrative, then?" I wondered.

"It is," he answered, "but I'm a night owl, anyway, and since I'm usually up until 4 or 5, I prefer to work these hours."

"That makes sense," I said.

"For the most part I like it," he told me, "but you do have to have a pretty thick skin to deal with some of the characters you get at that time. You wouldn't believe some of the things that have happened!"

"You should write a book or do a podcast," I laughed.

"Maybe so," he mused. "But whenever I talk to other drivers, they always have to one up me with some of their crazy stories." He paused. "I guess I could have them as guests on my podcast, though."

I wondered if he was really considering it.

"I'll give you a little piece of it, if it goes well," he laughed.

"And I'll subscribe to your show," I told him. "You can call it the Uber Night Shift!"