Arrrgh!!!

Now that Elegante Mother's party is over, it's time to focus on getting ready for Christmas. Today is December 3, so that means we have three weeks to Christmas Eve.

Christmas Eve is on a Sunday this year, so my family is planning to meet earlier in the day for our annual celebration. Normally we meet about 5:00 in the afternoon, and have a light supper, swap and open gifts.

The adults have a uni-sex gift exchange which is very entertaining. Each of us brings a gift. Usually the worse or funnier the gift is, the more likely it is to be gorgeously wrapped. We draw numbers, and the person holding number one is the first to choose a gift. If a following number holder happens to like that gift, it can be stolen from you. There are usually some spectacular gifts, some thoughtful gifts and some very odd gifts. Last year, Dear Husband chose a package that had the most current edition of the "Bathroom Reader" plus an assortment of chemicals to clean a bathroom! It turns out that the "Bathroom Reader" is pretty interesting! *G*

Elegante Mother will be invited to make her barbecue, and my nieces will load the table with all sorts of tasty things that will kill my diet! Thank you, God, for holidays!

I still have a lot of decorating to do. We have to decide the question of a live tree or a fake, and choose one. (Dear Husband drags his feet on this issue every year, and we're lucky to get a tree up by Christmas!) I have a little homely fake Sitka spruce that resides in my living room year 'round. It showcases the ornaments that my quilting bee friends have made for me over the years. There are wreaths in place, but I have some roping that needs to go over the mailbox pillar.

I think we might do a laid back Christmas this year. As far as I know, there won't be visitors here for Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, so we might relax on some of the traditions. I hope I get a lot of good books as gifts. I can spend the day with my feet up, lost in a good story!

Happy December, everyone!

This came in my e-mail today. It's titled "White Envelope." I'd be happy to give credit to the author, if anyone knows who wrote it. The message fits in with my quest to change tradtions at Christmas. I think something like this would be a lovely way to remember the son we lost New Years Eve.

It's just a small white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.

It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas -- oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it -- the overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma -- the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.

Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties, and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.

Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended. Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church.

These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford.

Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them." Mike loved kids -- all kids -- and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball, and lacrosse.

That's when the idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years.

For each Christmas, I followed the tradition -- one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on.

The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning, and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.

As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning it was joined by three more.

Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope.

Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us. May we all remember Christ, who is the reason for the season, and the true Christmas spirit this year and always.

I can't recall if I've written about shopping for Elegante Mother. It's so difficult for her to deal with getting in and out of the car that I've taken over most of her shopping for her. She has approximately 65 people to shop for, and we also give tins of home made cookies to the ladies at the salon.

She decided she would do a $15 gift certificate for each person on her list. I made up a list of family members, and then we decided which store would be appropriate (with a little help from my sisters). I did the lion's share of the shopping, but she went to the mall with My-Sister-The-Nurse one day, and hit five shops, and she went with me for a couple more this week.

We have signed the gift cards, and addressed them, and slipped them into little gift bags which have tags on them. I've mailed cards to four of the families; the rest are collected, waiting for our family party.. I'll make sure that there's a bag for each person who will be attending the party, before it's time to pack the car.

I'm relieved it's done. I helped her address her Christmas cards, and I hope to get mine finished tonight. I've resorted to shopping on line, and getting gift certificates for those who live out of state. Luckily, Dear Husband has done the shopping for the kids and our grand daughters, and he's even wrapped gifts! Way to go, DH!

We will not be entertaining anyone here for Christmas. We'll go to a niece's home for my family's party, and to my step-daughter's home on Christmas Day. The house is clean. We're almost done with the shopping and wrapping. It's very possible that other than a little cooking, we might have several laid back days coming our way. Sounds like a plan, doesn't it? *S*

When I was a child, our music teacher decided we would learn the music version of this poem, for a Christmas pageant at school. Probably 80% of the poem is firmly entrenched in my brain, because I can associate it with music I loved.

Dear Husband, Second Son, and Elegante Mother join me in wishing you a Blessed Christmas, and the best in the coming year. Merry Christmas, one and All!

"Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!" "

Clement Moore 1822