tis the season....

I enjoy gawking at christmas lights.

I figure if they don't want me to press my nose to the window --their bushes would be spikier...

WHO has some holiday spirit ...... ?

Gotta say this holiday season has been a rough one for me.  It takes a lot to put a damper on my joy but the last couple of months have been filled with too much death, near death and just basic not enoughness. So this morning I got up with a headache and decided that I’d have a wallow in my misery day. *laughing* It wasn’t going so hot, what with me being inexperienced in the milieu, but I was giving it the old college try. Then I got my mail.

Oh.  My.  Gosh.

I got the sweetest card from my friend Jerry wishing me a lovely holiday and hoping that Santa brought me everything that my heart could desire.  I smiled and thought to myself that Santa might have his work cut out for him this year. Next I opened a card from Lauren.  She had prepared me for it by calling and saying that she had made me something that made her giggle with delight and she couldn’t wait for me to get it. So, I should have been ready….but I wasn’t. I actually hopped up and down with glee when I saw the front of the card.

This little owl is so adorable that I can’t decide what part of him I love the best. If it comes right down to it I’d probably go with the boots, but the tail, the hat, his FINGERS and his smile are all up there in the top ten.

After I laughed and laughed, I called her and left her a voicemail telling her how much I loved her little wintery gift of owlish love.

I hung up the phone and reread Jerry’s card. I’ll have to ask him if he put in an express order or something cuz it seems like Santa might have come a couple of days early for me this year.

Copyright Lauren Carpenter

[You can find out lots more about Lauren --including confessions about her overwhelming love of  owls and other woodland creatures-- here]

Jennie’s Christmas Miracle……. Flash Fiction

I met him in line at the grocery store. Do-rag, jean jacket, beard, little Jon Lennon glasses, silver thumb ring. Not my type at all. He was buying tons of flour, bananas, zucchinis; obviously someone was going to be baking up a storm. Turned out it was him. When he noticed me behind him he flashed a beatific smile that would have had any casting director searching for a believable Jesus signing him on the dotted line.
The smile was what did it. Well, that and the stop motion flash of images of us tangled up together under a sweat soaked sheet that accompanied his handshake. And it wasn't just me. The cashier actually had to poke him on the shoulder to give him his change.
When we clonked back to earth, he helped me unload my cart and waited until I paid. He wrote his address on the back of his card and told me that if I wanted to come over the next day to sample his breads he'd love to have me.
I spent a sleepless night weighing the pros and cons.
When I rang his bell the next day I was shaking head to foot. I almost fled when I heard footsteps coming to the door. But then I straightened my spine and stood my ground. The door opened and let out heat, Sinatra and the wonderful smell of freshly baked zucchini bread. I was pulled into the apartment by that heavenly mixture and by the little white haired woman who opened the door. She smiled, took my coat, suggested I leave my boots by the door and ushered me toward the kitchen.
Marcus was barefoot, bending down to adjust something inside the open oven door. He lit up when he saw me. My mind registered a soft white Mexican style shirt and jeans slung low on slim hips in the instant before he crossed the room to engulf me in the best hug I've ever had. He kissed my neck and told me that he was so happy I'd come. His mother came back from wherever she'd taken my coat with a baby on her hip. The baby immediately launched himself at me and I explained that they'd been doing that to me my whole life. Nina, Marcus's mother, said that was because babies could see my heart light.
The rest of the evening was a blur. About twenty people showed up in the next few hours. Most were family, some were friends. I know I ate a lot, laughed so much my face hurt and drank about ten gallons of hot sweet tea. Marcus kept bringing me fresh cups and he took each opportunity to hug or kiss me hello and goodbye as he left and reentered the room.
Eventually everybody went home; Marcus's mom, his brothers, his sister Gina, her baby and her husband, all the guys who worked with Marcus in his custom bike shop and his best friend Jeff from grade school.
All that was left was us, Sinatra and a whirring dishwasher. We sat snuggled together on his couch and gazed at his Christmas tree. He kissed me down the side of my neck and up the side of my face, eventually making his way to my mouth. After a good long time he pulled back and thanked me for spending the evening with him. Then he asked me if I was tired and needed to go home or if I would consider staying for a while.
I never left.
That was twelve years ago and every year we recreate our grocery store meeting. Then we go home and bask in our tree to celebrate the day we met. But these days it's a day that has to do double duty because it's also our wedding anniversary.
I used to be one of those Scroogy people who didn't believe in Christmas miracles and who would never even have thought about letting down my guard and taking advantage of one of those just gotta have it impulse items in the grocery store check out line.
But now? I'm a convert. I take a moment every time I transfer my items from cart to conveyer belt to bend a discreet knee and thank the gods of grocery for all that they have provided. And once a year I drop a few crumbs of Marcus's special Christmas zucchini bread in offering. Because you never know; they might be vengeful gods. And I don't want to lose what I've found. I'm proof positive that zucchini bread can make everything better.
Especially when you top it off with a hot buttered man……seasoned of course, to taste.


***

A Little Christmas Magic….or

The day I became Cindy Lou Who

This past weekend I went to a Christmas concert. The orchestra was divine as always and seeing friends was nice, but the absolute highlight of the concert for me was the entrance of the sugar plum fairies. These particular fairies were four and five year old "ballerinas" in purple tutus and fairy wings. When they tippy toed out to the familiar strains of the Nutcracker Suite and the first one hit her mark and stopped, the second one hit her mark and stopped, the third one hit her mark and stopped and so on down the line until the last one plowed into the second to the last one and almost knocked her down…. not noticing because she was too busy beaming and waving at the audience….. I was delighted beyond words.

And this was even before they started dancing.

When their section of the musical program started their teacher who was kneeling on the floor in front of the stage led them through their routine. They "danced" all the way through the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairies without major incident and then beaming and waving at their parents in the audience tippy toed back off the stage. It was so incredibly cute I could hardly stand it. Especially the little wings bouncing when they tippy toed. I'm still grinning about it now while I'm telling you about it.

My delight in the fairies spilled over into the next segment which held Santa's arrival. He came in like a juggernaut and ran up and down the aisles high fiving children left and right; whipping them into a Christmas frenzy. When he had them on the edge of hysteria, he stopped at the front of the theatre and asked if the children would like to see Mrs. Clause. They shrieked "YES" and Mrs. Clause appeared with a basket of candy canes which she and Santa then began distributing. The WHOLE time this was going on there was a three year old about twenty rows in front of me shrieking "Santa" "Santa" and jumping up and down on her seat. Her father had a good grip on her but I was still concerned that there was going to be a need for the tooth fairy before Santa actually got over to her to give her a candy cane.

So there I was, sitting way in the back of the theatre because that's where my friend had found the source of all heat in the universe and was basking in it like a lizard…..beaming at Santa and Mrs. Clause as they distributed candy canes to all the children in the audience.

Well, here's the funny part.

And I'm totally blaming it on the magic of Christmas.

There were no children in the section of the theatre where we were, but Mrs. Clause made a bee line for me and gave me a candy cane.

I smiled and thanked her and ACTUALLY HUGGED IT TO MY CHEST like Cindy Lou Who in the Grinch.

AND I DON'T EVEN LIKE CANDY CANES.

So I hung the candy cane on a button on my coat that reads "I write therefore I am" and enjoyed the rest of the concert.

Afterwards my daughter [who was in the concert btw and was MARVELOUS] and I were waiting in line for refreshments.

She was telling me about the cookies that she had made and how each one contained at least five cups of sugar all by itself and that she hoped no one with diabetes tried one and then we were just talking about this and that the way we do with our chipmunk voices that get higher and squeakier when we get excited…..

And I noticed the man in front of us in line laughing and trying not to show it.

So I said to him something along the line of yes this is how we always talk and it was ok for him to be delighted by us since we were delightful and he turned around and introduced himself and we chatted for a while and I noticed that he ALSO had a candy cane sticking out of his coat pocket.

He mentioned that he thought he was the only adult in his section who had received a candy cane from Mrs. Clause. I said that I was the only adult in my section who had received a candy cane......

Then the world spun away and we were the only two people in the room and the music swelled….…..

Well ok, that last part didn't happen, but we had a nice chat and I'm pretty sure that my daughter and I were his version of the delightful thing to take away from the concert just like the sugar plum fairies were mine.

I love going through life spreading a little sparkly trail of joy…..

 

 

Happy holidays everyone….

Oh Tanenbaum, scary tanenbaum

[A mostly true seasonal story]

This past Saturday I was driving along, enjoying the neighborhood displays of Christmas decorations ……noting the giant inflatable snowmen, the reindeer on roofs, the wreaths and ribbons bedecking doors….. when out of nowhere I was appalled by a gruesome display of psychological torture that will haunt me til my dying day.

The day was bright and sunny with a crisp tang of snow in the air. Up ahead on my right I saw something white billowing like a low floating cloud.

But in this case it was more like the fog cinematographers use to set the scene in a monster movie.

A scary scene.

A scene where you want to yell at the actors: "Don't go down the stairs!"

As I got closer I saw that what was billowing was wood smoke. Wood smoke from a pot bellied stove set up in the middle of the parking lot of a storefront selling outdoor garden ornaments.

This time of year they also sell Christmas trees.

[You might want to shoo the children out of the room at this point]

As I drew level I saw two men with bulging money belts standing near the pot bellied stove gleefully rubbing their hands together to warm them. Just to the right of the stove…… completely enveloped in wood smoke…… stood twenty or thirty Christmas trees trussed up in rope, shivering, dropping their dying needles all over the ground, huddled together for comfort.

The poor trees!

Not only had someone snuck into their forest, mercilessly chopped them down, bound their glorious limbs together with rope and spirited them off to beelzebub's parking lot…….. while they awaited whatever fresh hell was in store…….. they were being forced to stand in the essence of one of their own species while it provided heat for their captors!

My mind reeled with the unfairness of it all.

But the great thing?

Just as I pulled into the convenience store next door an army of walking trees straight out of Tolkien's imagination crossed the street …..picked up the guys warming themselves....knocked their heads together[gently] and tossed them onto the roof of the nearest house. Then the walking tree army freed all the captive Christmas trees and they all marched off together into the woods.

At least that's what I told the cops when they showed up.

And just fyi?

Afterwards I found out two very interesting things……Vaseline easily removes pine tar from a cape and if you prepare the soil really well first, it's just amazing how quickly rooting hormone works on fir trees…….