The partial answer is that I get really, really, really, really bored about halfway through the afternoon. What I really need to do is get outside but if I am sort of semi under the weather (like I was today) and the weather is even too crappy for me (like it was today), it’s even hard for *me* to get outside. In this heathen/lapsed Catholic household, we celebrate Christmas in a cultural way. Sometimes we do have area family members over but a lot of times (this year) we just hang out. Presents? Yes. Too many. I’ve been trying to downsize that whole thing. And then a lot of hanging out until it’s time for dinner. And that is simple. Duck and mashed potatoes (rice would work too) and salad. And teensy tinesy little prepared desserts from the Plum Market.

When I was a kid up in Sault Ste. Siberia, there was a definite agenda. We got up on Christmas morning at our own little house on Superior Street and opened our presents. We got to play with them for just a while until the next thing on the agenda, which was to have breakfast at Grandma and Grandaddy’s house, oh I dunno, maybe eight blocks away or so, on John Street. It was close enough that my parents and grandaddy were always driving a big long ladder back and forth between our houses — somebody (The Commander) would drive and two others would hold the ladder outside the passenger-side windows. Anyway. We would have more presents at our grandparents’ house, from our grandparents and cousins, and when we were finished with that, there was a big breakfast in the dining room. After all that, we usually went home again for a while and that’s when boredom would hit and so we would be whining and crying and fighting and whatever else and our parents would probably be wishing we’d just go outside already. Eventually, it would be time to go to our aunt and uncle’s house for a big turkey dinner with just about every relative within 50 miles or whatever. Usually by the end of that affair, we would be ready for bed, at least I’m sure my parents wanted us to be. Of course, my most vivid memory of Christmas dinner is the year that I had just not been feeling right all day. My mom finally asked my doctor uncle to take a look at me. He took one look and said, “She has the MUMPS!” Yes, I did. I was six. They didn’t vaccinate for the mumps in those days (and maybe that was a good thing but that’s a whole ‘nother entry). Mumps! Merry Christmas to me!!!

I call myself a heathen but we did go to church when I was a kid. The Central United Methodist Church, that is. Christmas Eve was magical there with choir and organ music and pageantry and the last song (Silent Night) sung by candelight. Us kids always went home that night with our heads in the stars, opened one gift and headed to bed with sugarplums dancing in our heads.

This year? We did about the usual thing here at the Landfill. I tried really hard to downsize. Not sure I did the best job. Anyone want a remote control helicopter? Don’t ask why we have two…

What did y’all do? Are you downsizing? How successful were you at doing that? Er, I mean if you celebrate Christmas, that is.

This entry was posted on Friday, December 25th, 2009 at 8:13 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.