Christmas Musings

'Tis the season and all that. I've spent the season being even more reflective than usual. From the frivolous to the serious, here are a few of the things I've pondered:

The Tree
There is a fir/evergreen tree outside the bedroom window in my previous home. I could sit up in bed and view it. This would've been my 12th Christmas in that home and for a dozen years I have said to myself, "I should put lights on that tree so I could wake up to that vision." I never did it and now I wish I had.

Eyes are Everywhere
I was taught to look at the front and rear view of myself before I left the house. I'm sure this was intended to save me from some disaster like walking into a meeting with the back of my skirt tucked into my pantyhose. Everyone does not learn this lesson (or chooses not to heed it.) I listened to a solo last night by a young woman who truly has the voice of an angel but was dressed as if she were running late for a street-walking gig. Yes, I am showing my age but I am constantly amazed at young girls who flaunt their assets, including posting them for all the world to see, as their parents remain silent.

Eyes are also everywhere in terms of choices you make. You may be an adult and it may be your right to make your own decisions but I'm learning (better late than never) to stop and ask myself, "What do they see that I don't see and how does that reflect on my character?"

Never Underestimate Rice Krispie Treats
My mother and my sister spend countless hours making homemade candies for the holidays. They are always popular and I've eaten my fair share. But, sometimes you can also be a big hit, especially with children, with sticky, crunchy Rice Krispie treats. I made a batch, shaped it into a wreath and took it to a party. The kids ate it with gusto and it left more of the grown-up goodies for the adults.

Nobody Wants another Knickknack
Unless you are a serious collector of something, chances are you do not need or desire more stuff. (If you are a serious collector, chances are that most people cannot afford to add to your collection.) Unless someone requests something very specific, I try to buy only consumed or used and thrown away. I didn't buy gifts this year but I plan to keep this rule for future occasions. Most of us already have an embarrassing amount of unnecessary riches.

Necessary Riches
It's trite and sappy but the riches that fill my life (and hopefully yours) did not arrive via sleigh last night. They weren't slipped under the tree while we slept. They weren't purchased in any store. They were sleeping beside us or right down the hall. They were those we included in our Christmas Eve prayers. They were in the tears we shed for those we miss and in our hearts and we reflected on sweet memories.

Beware of Lifetime Movies
Substitute your favorite cable channel. You can lose an entire day if they run a marathon. Last Sunday, I started watching one Christmas movie on Lifetime and ended up watching four back to back. I have seen others do this with the True Crime channels especially if they're rerunning Cops.

Christmas Miracles
I believe they happen all year long.

Merry Christmas to all.

Holiday Parties

For someone with a life in shambles, I've still managed to attend quite a few Christmas functions including lunches with friends and card parties. You can take the party out of your life but you can't take the party out of this girl. I still have several get-togethers to go. My low-key Christmas has been a wonderful balance of relaxation and festivities.

Last night we went to my sister's house. I find most holiday decorations magical but it's even more so in homes with young children. (She and her husband have three.) I love asking the children which ornaments are their favorites and seeing the pride in their little faces.

My oldies hosted Christmas Eve for many years. When my sister and her real siblings were children, spending Christmas Eve at my parents gave Santa a chance to finish some last minute details away from prying eyes. All three children remember these gatherings and speak of them often.

As usual, life comes full circle. Although it wasn't Christmas Eve and we were missing a few people, the night was quite similar to those from years past. The menu had many of the favorites we've shared over time. Some decorations were familiar. The laughter was spontaneous and frequent. And three little children danced around in the true spirit of the season.

Mr. Pam Needs a Grocery Gift Certificate

Do you remember Pat on Saturday Night Live? Is it a man or a woman? Does he/she have a life?

In my childhood neighborhood, we had this girl who was that androgynous type. Maybe asexual is a better word. We knew she was female because her name was Pam. She lived with her parents through childhood and adulthood. At some point, my father started referring to her as "Mr. Pam" and unfortunately it caught on.

Once again, I am trying to watch Jeopardy and there is an interruption. My father is speaking to the dogs as if I were not in the room:

"Mr. Pam is eating again -- Stay out of her way."

"Married -- Divorced; Married -- Divorced -- Mr. Pam can't make up her mind."

"No Christmas presents for the doggies -- Mr. Pam is eating us out of house and home."

As if I needed another nickname, I have now become the neighborhood's new Mr. Pam. We have laughed ourselves stupid over it.

Breakfast With Santa

Yesterday, I went with my friend Lynn to her nephews' school for Breakfast with Santa. We were volunteer elves to take the photos, although most parents and grandparents brought their own cameras.

We gave ourselves elf nicknames. Lynn's was Booger and mine was Depression. It was 7:30 in the morning -- we found everything funny.

The party was quite the todo! Breakfast included sausage and pancakes. Besides visiting with Santa, there were booths with many other things for the children to do. There was also a live reindeer that the children could pet. Lynn knocked a few children out of the way to take this picture of me and the reindeer. I decided to forego sitting on Santa's lap. Even he couldn't handle my wish list this year.

A Simplified Christmas

For the first time in at least 18 years, I will not be celebrating Christmas in my usual fashion. I will not be organizing a family photo, addressing and mailing hundreds of cards, decorating every room, trimming a live tree or hosting any parties. I will not be buying gifts and wrapping for hours. (Ok, I might buy the dog a new toy.) I will not be coordinating schedules to accommodate other people. I enjoy doing most of these things but this is not the year for it.

I am not skipping Christmas. I'm already listening to holiday music. I will help my oldies trim a small tree. I will keep my mother and sister company while they do their annual candy making. I will help my mother prepare a holiday meal. I will enjoy the children's Christmas show and the choir's cantata at church.

Tradition and rituals are important to me. This will be my first Christmas making some new ones.

Domain Names

I like to own things, especially anything that has my name attached to it. I own my domain name for my personal name and my company name. Frankly, I think everyone should. A couple of years ago I considered buying domain names for my parents and immediate family as a Christmas gift. It proved impractical but now I wish I had done it. Many that I investigated are no longer available.

Occasionally, you'll read a story about some person who buys up domain names that have the potential to be very lucrative. It's like an Internet hedge fund. They're betting that someone will want that domain enough to buy them out -- for big bucks. I wonder how many people tried to buy Obama.com (or .net or .org) a couple of years ago.

I've shared a couple of logos and email boxes which makes me incredibly nervous. I used to say I'm not good at sharing. The startling revelation to me is that I am excellent at it. If you ask it of me and it's within my power, I will give it.

Blank

Some writers admit to writer's block. This rarely happens to me. My brain is wired in a different way and I'm the one you see writing on cocktail napkins. I'm the one with pen and paper on every surface of this house. I think of the blank computer screen as an invitation.

Today, I am blank. My mind is racing and if I wrote about everything soaring through it, I would have to sit here through Christmas.

Homecomings

My sister and I went through the Christmas decorations yesterday. No blood was shed. In fact, we didn't even have to arm wrestle. We were in unison on several items as we turned to my mother and said, "You have to keep this." I took a few things. Like I really need more decorations.

Then I started getting antsy. I wanted to shout, "It's time to go to the neighborhood party!" I did not want to miss a minute.

Everyone should have an occasional day that includes hours and hours of laugh-out-loud fun. I think I've filled my quota for the year. Even my mother stayed until the bitter end. She must have been enjoying our antics and I know she enjoyed the stories. I liked it best when she would say, "Sheri, do you remember so and so?" With complete disrespect, I said, "No Mom, I only went to grade school, middle school and high school with this person. Why don't you introduce us?"

Then the photos started circulating. The stories got a lot more interesting. (That's the great thing about this age --what are they going to do, ground us?)

The neighborhood is right behind a naval plant. Well, I don't know what they make there now but when I was growing up (Cold War Years,) it was all very hush-hush. As far as I know, none of us are radioactive. The military underestimated a group of kids who ran along that strip. As we sat behind my friends' homes last night, the fence (with barbed wire) is still there. Many of us said, "I've scaled that fence." One said, "I could still do it." Thankfully, level heads prevailed.

We danced. We sang. We ate well. We told stories that no parent should ever have to hear.

I could write forever about this. Trust me, there's more to come. But I have another homecoming. The husband comes back today. He missed a great party.

Everyone should have a teddy bear

My grandparents are gone and I miss them. I like to write about crazy grandma and Wild Bill because they have certainly provided the best stories. Bobbie (my name for her) showed us love and nurtured us all. Her husband, my Pa, took care of us also. I like to think that my creativity is a little gift from him. He could take a fallen tree branch and turn it into a Christmas tree. He was magical.

Years ago, probably at Thanksgiving, the family was discussing Christmas. Pa mentioned that he had never had a teddy bear. That year, he got one.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, I have lived this life without wanting for much. (Okay, nothing!)

Never underestimate stuffed animals. I have a floppy llama that Pa gave me when I was a child. Occasionally, I sleep with it. I look at it and get flooded with memories.

Transfer of Power

For an only child, I have a lot of sisters. I have my goldies. I have my girlfriends. I have ny cousins and aunts. I also have the lady above who grew up, got married and birthed three children.

Like true sisters, we sometimes have to compete or compromise. She has her own parents but she has captured a humongous part of my parent's hearts. I am so grateful for their relationship.

My parents have decided to weed through Christmas ornaments and decorations. They're downsizing. My sister has three little ones; my little ones have flown the coop. I do not need more Christmas decorations. In my will, the Christmas stuff I have will go to my sister and our children.

But ...

I'm vacillating. Some of these might be important to me.

The last time I decorated a tree with my parents, I was 17-years old. My sister has been there for most of the decorating, candy-making, etc. for more than 30 years.

If I'm honest with myself, I know she can and should take whatever she wants. I want to be the monitor. It's the control freak in me.

We've picked a date to go through stuff. She invited me. You might think I would find this offensive. Instead, I thought what a gift she is to all of us.

But, if we disagree on an ornament, I will wrestle her skinny butt to the ground and I will win.

The Little Moments

Do you stop and appreciate the little moments? I'm not very good at it but I'm trying to get better.

When the baby says, "I brought the C to an A-, and I'm headed home."

When the daughter says, "I'm not really mad at you." It's code for "I love you and I miss you."

When someone asks you what you want for Christmas and you realize you want for nothing.

When you sit on the floor with the dog, exchanging kisses, and realize that other than the comfort of the husband's kisses, there is something magical about dog kisses.

When you open your mailbox to find wonderful cards from people sending holiday wishes.

When you walk through your home and look at the tree. (Merry Impersonal Christmas.)

When you look around, acknowledge the turmoil, aches and pains, and still find gratitude.

Don't worry. This is a momentary spell. I'll be cranky again later.

What I Hate about Christmas

I prop little books on my kitchen window sills. I've swapped out my normal ones for Christmas ones. One is Christmas Joy by Susan Branch. One is Christmas Miracles by Jamie C. Miller, Laura Lewis and Jennifer Basye Sander. They're both lovely and inspiring books.

But my personal favorite and the one that gets the center spot is: Ethel Burke's What I hate about Christmas. It's a little odd that it's a man (Ed Strnad) writing as a woman but once you flip through it, you tend to forget that bizarre fact.

It's filled with hundreds of little things to hate about Christmas. I'll just give you a random sampling:

Puzzling over a card with no return address and a first name only signature.
When your tree resembles the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
People who send cheap gifts in Tiffany boxes.
Trying to locate the one dead bulb that knocks out the whole string of Christmas lights.
When you tell a religious person that, technically, December 25th was not Jesus' birthday and they get really upset.
The song, All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth.
People who drive around while wearing a Santa hat.
Nostalgia for the days when children were overjoyed to get an orange.

Here's what I hate about this Christmas:

Oldies are still falling like acorns off the oak tree. I'm terrified they won't take their trip to Texas.
Our impersonal tree. (I love the tree; I just miss the ornaments. I'm attracted to clutter.)

I can get wrapped up in the stress and silliness of the season. Yes, it's over-commercialized. But I rally myself and I still enjoy (most of) it. When I get a little frustrated or gloomy, I browse through this book and have a chuckle.
The other day, the mother-in-law said about the book on the window sill, "This doesn't seem very nice." I said, "Don't touch it."

Since I'm starting to speak to them like the dog, I should've said, "Paws on the ground!"

General Messiness

My house is a mess. It's a good match with my mind.

Decorations are still strewn about. The tree is still naked. The husband is procrastinating (and I'm letting it go) because this is the first year neither child has been at home while we decorate the tree. He's promised to do the lights this evening.

I really wouldn't care except I'm having some ladies over for lunch tomorrow. Will they overlook the unadorned tree?

The oldies are a mess. There's a stomach virus or something going around. She got it with a vengeance. I was informed of its onset by Hangdog standing in the kitchen, screaming my name and then yelling, "Emergency!" I'm far from Superwoman but I think I leapt a couple of things to get to the other end of the house. While I was tending to her messiness AND trying to make her comfortable, he poked me and said, "There's a knot in one of my shoelaces."

There's a trail of toast crumbs plus cinnamon and sugar on my kitchen floor. I know that because I just crunched through it. It's one thing I don't have to clean up. Gabby will handle it.

My nails are a mess. I meant to do a manicure yesterday but instead, I spent that time curled up with the mother-in-law trying to comfort her. Call me crazy but I thought that seemed a little more important.

There's a mountain of office paperwork waiting for attention. I keep digging a tunnel through it and ignoring it. There's also a mountain of laundry. It will wait.

If you are on my Christmas card list and the envelope you receive is splattered, I have an explanation. I left them on the kitchen island and bacon grease got a little out of control. I'm sending them anyway.

The husband hates clutter and mess. I have no idea why he's still speaking to me.

The Piano

We have our piano tuned four times a year. I am not a musician, nor do I have a musical ear. I couldn't tell you if it's in or out of tune. It all sounds good to me.

We've had the same man come to our house for 10-plus years to tune it. There's lots of banging and adjusting which you think would get on your nerves but it doesn't. Then, he plays a few songs to test different tones and chords. It's like having a private concert in your home. He brings songs/arrangements for the husband to try.

Yesterday was our winter tuning. The husband was headed to the office but I said, "Wait! In a minute, he'll start playing and you have to hear it." So, he did.

Maybe it's the magic of the Christmas decorations. Maybe it's the undecorated tree plopped in the living room. Maybe it's the tuning. All I know is last night turned into a concert in my living room with the husband and the mother-in-law alternating songs and teaching each other. Even Hangdog stayed up until almost midnight. The dog planted herself underneath the piano and camped for the performance.

Singing around the piano is a lost art. I do it with the oldies and often with friends. The husband at the piano can cure a bad day or end a disagreement. I don't think the generations behind us do this, with the exception of the children of this house. I wonder if they will someday have a piano in their homes. I hope so.

Holiday Pleasures

I didn't just get up on the wrong side of the bed today; I was cannon blasted into the dark side.

Then I went to get my roots touched up and was informed that my eyebrows are also sprouting gray hairs. Thankfully, I had not signed up for a bikini wax.

So, I decided to take a little time for myself. It's time to decorate for the holidays and my house is a jumble of boxes because I'm doing it in stages. The magic kicked in and my mood improved immensely.

I put my iPod on the holiday shuffle (lots of old favorites like Brenda Lee and Elvis) and started arranging decorations. Every item I unearthed is a memory. Many of my decorations were passed along from my parents so they were part of my childhood Christmas celebrations. Many others are gifts from aunts and friends. I know which ones are my favorites and the family's favorites.

I realized that the oldies have given away most, if not all, of their Christmas decorations.

All of a sudden, the mother-in-law (who felt crummy all day) is singing. Hangdog is talking about his childhood Christmas memories and songs he used to play on the accordion. I caught him singing too.

I'm a little too "good enough, it'll pass" kind of person. The mother-in-law is the extreme opposite. (You should watch us cook together.) I have this very dorky reindeer made out of some kind of fake plant. She insisted that he needed a red nose and some button eyes. Yes, we did it... using the glue gun, searching for buttons, making a red nose. No one will notice but it made her happy and it does look better.

Every year, I make a vow to decorate less. Every year, I break it.

Here's why. Those items I unpack and display represent everything I hold dear: the honor of celebrating Christmas, the memories of Christmas' past and the great pleasure I get in having people in this home. It may not be church but it's definitely fellowship. I packed my bad mood away and relished the time.

And we haven't even gotten to the tree.

The Grinch Who Stole Christmas

I love Dr. Seuss. There was a point in my life that I could recite Green Eggs and Ham from memory. For a while, it was one of the baby's favorite bedtime books, along with The Very Bad Bunny.(This is not Dr. Seuss but it's a good one.)

Thanksgiving is next week and the Christmas ads and catalogs are already plentiful. Unless you are hibernating in a cave, you know the holiday season is upon us. Here's what I love: the husband and I negotiated years ago that I can only begin the Christmas music in the house on the day after Thanksgiving. But, he can't control what I listen to in the car or in my office. I love putting up the tree with the exception of the year I had to move it three times. I love the parties, even when I'm exhausted. Most of all, I love the cheesy Christmas movies and specials:

National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation
It's a Wonderful Life
Miracle on 34th Street
A Christmas Story
A Charlie Brown Christmas
Frosty the Snowman
Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer
A Christmas Carol
Scrooged

My favorite is How The Grinch Stole Christmas. I've loved it since childhood but it has taken on new meaning because I live with the Grinch.

Last year, the Unabomber made a short appearance on Christmas Eve during our annual party. He did not get out of bed on Christmas Day, even though his granddaughter was here from Texas and the rest of the family was gathered around the tree. I got a serious attitude. The husband advised me to let it go and for that day, I took the advice but now the holidays are here so I have to remind myself again.

Before the oldies lived with us, I used that bedroom as Christmas Central. I piled presents and stocking stuffers. All of a sudden, it was the day before Christmas Eve and I was overwhelmed. My friend, Mickey, came over. We sat on the floor, popped movies and Christmas tapes in the VCR and wrapped all of the gifts. It was one of the most fun afternoons of my life.

I may live with the Grinch but he's not going to steal Christmas.

The Mood Lifter

It is guaranteed that life will throw curves. Some days can be absolutely crummy. Little bumps can be cured by a belly laugh, a good meal, or a bubble bath. Some people lift their spirits by shopping. Some men I know (no need to mention names) can distract themselves by playing golf or playing cards.

When the bumps get bumpier, I like to have other options. Something to look forward to -- something to make me smile. When we were young, Jan used to make fun of me because I would buy a new item of clothing and let it hang it the closet. I liked knowing I had something to look forward to. I liked seeing the tags that told me it was a virgin item. Her daughter is trapped in the same disease.

That's probably why I enjoy the build-up to Christmas (or almost any holiday) more than the actual holiday. I thrive on the anticipation.

I LOVE to travel. I like to peruse my calendar to contemplate upcoming trips. The anticipation is fabulous and usually (except for that one disastrous Florida girlfriend trip) the trips are wonderful.

Things are a little crazy around here. Lots of decisions being made and I'm trying to stay out of the way. The girlfriends are planning our annual trip to Phoenix. Cross check and call forward. I'm booked.

Theme Dressing

It's that time of year. The ridiculous sweaters and sweatshirts are coming out of the mothballs. Pumpkins and other Halloween things are adorning various articles of clothing. I ran a couple of errands yesterday and they were everywhere. Sunglasses are recommended.

Next up: The Christmas sweaters. Some are gaudy. Some are quite beautiful. Some are stupid. Some have bells on them so the person jingles when she walks. Ear plugs are recommended.

In the interest of full disclosure, I admit it. I own some of these items. I have a black jacket with pumpkins, witches, bright-colored leaves, etc. on it. A few years ago, I wore it to church and when I came home, Big Daddy said to me, "Don't you think it's wrong to wear a jacket with witches on it to a worship service?" Ooops!

I still own a couple of Christmas sweaters. They're in my cedar chest and they haven't participated in the holidays for a while. I have a couple of Christmas sweatshirts and I usually unearth them when I'm decorating the tree or wrapping gifts. They don't get to go out of the house but they do make me a little cheery. It's a ritual. Kind of like Brenda Lee's, Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree.

I own a pair of jingle bell earrings. They give me a headache but I think they're funny so I wear them once a season. Grab your ear plugs if you see me headed toward you.

Beyond dressing a person, some people have theme costumes for their pets. Okay, okay, Gabby has a Santa hat. She only wears it on Christmas Eve. She does not own a Halloween costume.

I also own a sweater set (black, of course) that has a repetitive theme of champagne toasts. I wear it every New Year's Eve. I think it's tasteful but I suspect some of my friends are laughing behind my back.

It's okay to make fun of these costumes. I'm still a (closet) member of the club.

Gift Cards

I used to be kind of a snob about gift cards. In my mind, it meant that I wasn't willing to take the time and thought to buy a personal gift. I have been converted.

There is not a person in my world who needs another posession. They certainly don't need me picking out a knick knack for them to stash and probably sell later on eBay. Yes, my parents have been giving me a book store gift card for years. It's my favorite! I have a book fetish and I want to pick them out myself. I have a Target problem and it's oh so fun to have a gift card and get to discover the treasures for myself. Maybe I want shoes or maybe I just want to stock up on toilet paper.

The oldies love the warehouse stores. They also love the bakery around the corner. For his upcoming birthday, I may get a gift card and he can fall into the beloved sugar coma.

Last Christmas, the daughter gave me a gift card for a massage. It was truly one of the best gifts I've received in years.

It's really fun when you stumble on something that's a perfect fit for a person in your life. It's not fun when you're racking your brain and scrambling for a gift when they would probably prefer to pick something out themselves.

I know it's crass that everyone knows what you spent. I've moved on. Unless something jumps out at me, I'm declaring the upcoming holiday season, "The Year of the Gift Card."

Ten dollars goes a long way in that $1 section at Target.

Repetition

I take great comfort in routine, tradition and repetition. And, I get teased a lot for it. I like the way it feels to do something year after year. I cry when the husband reads The Night Before Christmas to our grown children on Christmas Eve. I love it when one of the kids says, "But we always do ..." I am a pest with my own parents about our traditions.

If you've raised children, you could probably quote many books: Goodnight Moon, The Cat in the Hat, (or anything by Dr. Seuss,) etc. It was a comfort to them as they tried to fall asleep.

I am the same way with movies. I could watch certain movies (and I do) over and over again. I like the fact that I don't have to stay awake until the end. I know how it ends. It's like someone reading me a goodnight story. As soon as I start to nod off, the husband changes the channel to ESPN or The Golf Channel.