Merry Christmas from the DeArmond Family. May your holiday be warm at heart and your coming year full of new possibilities. Love to all.
T-minus ten days until Christmas. We sloshed through rain and mud yesterday to acquire a Christmas tree. I’m dreaming of a wet Christmas. Luke and I decorated the tree last night while Shawn and Ana made tacos. It smells like home.
Here we are, one turkey fatter (two in my case), past the first of the holidays and on to the next. Black friday is not a mall day for me; you couldn’t pay me enough. But fall has to scoot over for winter and at the DeArmond home, Friday was the day. We scooped gutters, raked leaves, and combed the lawn. The removal of the detritus from the front yard revealed the first tips of the winter bulbs making their way up. i got the leaves into a pile on the curb just in time to miss the green waste collector from city. Yay me.
I dread this part of the year. Christmas, you say? Thanksgiving? Nope. I dig the holidays. My favorite part of the year starts when the leaves to begin to turn colors and ends right after New Years. I love the holidays. What I don’t love is divvying them up.
Sigh... Here we go again.
It’s rough, you know? Everybody wants to go back and sit around that same Christmas tree they had when we were all kids, to shake that little silver sleigh bell and hear it ring again.
Walking out of a chinese restaurant last night with a bag of takeout in my hand:
There's a mallard duck standing in front of me on the sidewalk.
"What are you doing here?"
We're about half a mile from the campus creek, as the duck flies. In the downtown shops and restaurants of this little college town, one of us looks out of place. He waddles up to face me, about a foot away. He's looking at my takeout bag.
"Sorry. There's nothing in there for you."
He wiggles his tail feathers.
It was late last night when a friend reminded me of today’s impending holiday. It’s Fat Tuesday – Mardi Gras. Almost missed it entirely. Not that it’s a real big holiday around this house. I don’t really go in for Lent so the idea of spending the eve before getting rid of the butter and yummy things in the house is just an excuse to have pancakes around here.
The take-and-bake pizza store has a sign out front: “Now Taking Valentine’s Day Pre-Orders!” Apple left a note in my inbox: “Apple TV: The Perfect Gift for your Valentine.”
You folks are reaching.
Shawn and I camped out on the couch last night and watched Serenity (awesome). I was brushing my teeth and checking my email one last time for the night when I heard booms and whistles. I glanced out the window looking for the backfiring car. Who would be making that kind of noise at – I looked at the time on my laptop – 12:00 at night? Oh, right. New Years. I spit out my toothpaste and padded down the hall to the office to give my husband a kiss. So that’s how I rang in the new year, with slight bewilderment and belated recognition.
Every now and then, I hear a random line pop out of someone’s mouth and I think “I’m totally blogging that.” I’ve got a backlog of them now. I’m sharing.
Overheard in the dressing room at the dance studio:
“I’d hug you, but I’m naked.”
Overheard at the bar in a sushi restaurant:
“I don’t eat eggplant. It tastes nasty, the texture is weird, and I don’t eat anything that’s purple.”
Family at the dinner table on Christmas Eve:
“Please pass the wrench.”