It's that time of year again. Over here, that means last minute push to finish making gifts, one more store run for stocking stuffers, hashing out the schedule for The Day, which is subject to change until hm...about 12:01 on Dec. 26th.
Memories of Christmases past, with family members who are elsewhere or no longer with us, linger. Earlier today, I had to put away a packet of photos that started out with DH's now-traditional portraits of our stuffed animals because -kapow- the next one was the first from the roll we shot at what was my Dad's last Christmas. A few years back but yet too soon, so those go aside for a while. Emails and cards from friends bring the intimate warmth of being together even if there are miles between us, and I've had the great joy of putting up or helping to put up three trees this season. Two in friends' homes, one in my own. One traditional pine with heirloom ornaments with sentimental meanings, one silver fiber optic with brightly colored ornaments that all came together, and one mini tree made of red tinsel, self-lit and adorned with tiny red, gold and green balls as well as one giant red one emblazoned with the logo of DH's place of employment.
Holiday music gets frequent play over here: Neil Diamond's cover of Adam Sandler's Hanukkah Song; Coldplay's Christmas Lights, which put me in mind of a favorite blog that has not been updated for some time now -I wish the blogger well- and the Pogues' Fairytale of New York, which is a new discovery for me. Stephen Curtis Chapman's "O Come O Come, Emmanuel", the only version I've ever heard where the singer actually sounds like he wants Emmanuel to arrive; since I'm Christian myself, this is kind of a biggie.
Movies are Love Actually, About a Boy and The Holiday. I've already read Coming Home for Christmas by Carla Kelly, and Christmas Revels by Mary Jo Putney, and if I were able to hunt down some of the older Shillouette historical Christmas anthologies, I'd be up for a gorge on those, but if not, my TBR shelves overflow and there are untapped treasures on my ereader. I have yet to view Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol (or any version of Mr. Dickens' masterpiece, for that matter) this year, but there's time for that. We count the twelve days of Christmas in our family starting on the 25th, not ending on it, and the week between Christmas and New Year's is my favorite week out of the entire year, that tucked away time.
Since I'm not sure when I'll have computer time over the holiday itself -power cord on the laptop blew; I'm borrowing a friend's, and a new one is on the way (thanks, Kara!)this will stand as the "official" weekend post. It's all too easy for me to blabber, especially about my favorite holiday - some sad, some happy, some silly, some holy, old friends and new favorites, the ghosts of Christmases past, present and future all welcome guests- but the only appropriate happy dance for today is obvious:
Happy holidays, whatever you celebrate.
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