Sunday, December 6, 2009

The Christmas Blues

Ain't it funny how the Christmas season is like a race to be run. In the beginning, the slow start means making lists, checking them twice, and figuring out where best to shop. Then the pace picks up as the gifts are checked off of the list. At the peak is the traditional Christmas letter writing and the visualization of the people who will be getting the letters. Double check the Christmas letter to make sure that all of the family members are mentioned and provided an equal number of inches of attention. Dash of to Office Max and print out the Christmas letter, then write the addresses on the envelopes, get the stamps, sort out the letters by address, get to the post office. Then wait in line for your turn.

Lugging home the mail from the post office, invariably someone's post card reminds you that you forgot to send them a Christmas letter. Then you get on the computer and email the rest of the folks their electronic Christmas letter. Add in a special message on the email and attach the Christmas letter making sure that you attached the correct year's edition. Bing...the letters are sent.

Christmas dinner is on the horizon...making a list, checking it twice, checking out what market to visit for the best deals. Then the fight is on for a parking space, a shopping cart, the very last delectable tidbit, paying for the food through the eyeballs, pushing the mountain of groceries to the car, loading the groceries only to find that there were 100s reusuable shopping bags in the trunk after all. Fight travel 20 miles home to the ranch. Unloading the groceries, making sure there is enough space in the refrigerator for all of the delectable tidbits purchased.

Clean the house!!

Christmas morning, wake up and find an excited adult-baby has cooked breakfast and sorted the gifts into piles. Unwrap gifts. Throw away the trash. Put away the gifts. Eat more breakfast...then get ready for the marathon.

Then it is cook, cook, wash the dishes in the sink, cook, cook, wash more dishes in the sink. Set the table. Put out a mountain of food. Eat. Clean up. Eat desset.
Clean up. Wave goodbye to all who came to Christmas dinner. Then, crash!

The sun jerks your eyelids open whether you like it or not. Christmas is over.
Now what am I going to do with myself until February 14th?

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