I glance out the car window at the tree strapped to the roof. "Well, that was pretty easy."
"Yep. I think we're set now." In the rear view mirror a pile of small fir branches are waving around, awaiting wreathage at home.
"We still need mistletoe."
The kid pipes up from the backseat. "What's mistletoe?"
"A parasitic plant."
"Sucks the life out of trees."
"Probably full of narguls."
"The ancient druids nailed it to the doors of newly-weds to increase fertility."
So, who's buckled and gone ahead and started listening to Christmas music? I've had at least one friend confess that her hand slipped and she accidentally played Barenaked for the Holidays. Her name will remained undisclosed, by the way. I feel ethically obligated to protect the sweet and innocent.
My kid has a lego Star Wars advent calendar (thank you Grandma and Grandpa) and every morning he announces the date over breakfast and then runs off to build his little ship or droid for the day under the lights of Christmas tree. It's like a tiny little empire is marching me closer and closer to Sunday.
That's no moon; it's a space station.
Do you know what I like about Christmas lights?
Excuse me, Shannon...
Weren’t you just bitching about Christmas and its trappings one post ago?
That was then. This is now.
Who the hell are you? The Ghost of Christmas Present? Your objections will be duly noted in my yule log. We’re moving on.
When I turned the calendar page to November, I performed the ritual count of weeks left until Christmas, looked at the to-do list in my head, and had my festive pre-season panic attack. How did it get so late in the year and why is the finished-project basket so empty? I glared at my spinning wheel. Seductive little tramp. I resolutely turned my back on the singles waiting to be plied and turned toward my knitting needles.
When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.
-Paulo Cuelo, The Alchemist.
Shawn and I sat on the floor in a quiet living room by the light of the Christmas tree and the embers in the fireplace, each holding a glass of late zinfandel and watching the clock on his iPhone count down to midnight.
Twenty seconds early, our neighbors erupted in a tumult of cheers and noise makers. Flashing lights from roman candles and piccolo petes shone though our windows. From the decibel level, you would have sworn we were at the big noisy party after all.
Ania informed me yesterday that tonight there will be a full moon, and not only a full moon, but a blue moon at that, and apparently we haven’t had a blue moon on New Year’s Eve for nineteen years. So there.
That means that we’re starting off the year halfway through the lunar cycle. And empirically speaking, I suppose that would be half-full, not half-empty. How optimistic of us.
I wonder how often the moon gets a blue earth. Somebody do the math. I suppose it depends on where you’re standing. Doesn’t everything?