A Post-Christmas Giggle

Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the house
Not a laptop was stirring, nor a computer mouse.
The hubby was working, but the little wife was not;
she was stretched out immobile on the marital cot.
The kitties lay with her and occasionally a dog.
The creatures were sleeping, unconscious as logs.
Dear hubby washed cars, and dishes, and clothes
While wifey my dear was not troubled by those.
For curious reasons, her spine was a tingle
As were her hands - such gifts from Kris Kringle!
Electrical pain shot jolts through her neck
Making her cry , "Hey, what the heck??!!"
She wrote a quick poem, then quickly she fled
To the warmth and relief of the marital bed.
.........
And that's enough of that crap.

Here, late in the evening, is a tribute to Monkey Man and his Sunday 160, a tale told in precisely 160 characters and spaces:

Hours wasted Christmas Eve
Hiding gifts in paper
On Xmas morn two seconds later
got mounds of trash you can’t reuse
It’s the “Xmas Wrapping Ain’t Recyclable” blues

Blessings to You

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a great day!

Three generations of our family gathered on Christmas Eve and shared a tamale/enchilada feast and memories of Christmases past. As we always have, as far back as anyone can remember, the older ones (including my age group now!) claim the seats at the dining room table while the kids make do in the other room. When I was a kid, that room used to be the kitchen. Now, it's the living room and they're watching old Christmas movies on my beloved's new gigantic HD TV.

It was a beautiful evening. I missed my mother, not as she was in the past few years, but as she was in decades past, bustling around with a dish towel in her hand. Mom was always doing something, from sun-up until bedtime. She sat down and rested only after 10 o'clock at night, fresh from her shower in a muumuu on the couch, reading the day's newspaper. When my daughter was a little girl, she drew a picture of me and titled it "Mommy always working." My mother trained me to work. I haven't done a terrific job keeping up with my legacy lately but that is the standard my mother engrained in me.

We greet Christmas morning with treasures filling our Christmas stockings, with reading the second chapter of Luke in the King James version, and with watching "Charlie Brown's Christmas." Who knows what the rest of the day will bring. But I know it will rain down blessings on our heads and I pray that blessings rain down on you and on your families.

Christmas Morning


We lie abed with the old dogs and listen to the wind

the children are all grown and have flown with the wind

the window is a collage of leaves washed by the rain

these are the gifts of the Magi: the scent of old dogs

the wealth of the years and the preservation of love

We lie abed with wrinkles and our sagging skin

our love windblown by the turbulence of years

imperfect and well worn The smell of it is beautiful

and your legs are soft as fur where they mingle

with mine and I pet them with my foot

as I consider rising up and bowing down

with this great gift extended to the king transformed

as we are by the hand of God

A Christmas Shock

Is it just me, or is everyone not blog-visiting because they're busy with holiday preparations?

I feel bereft. I don't spend time visiting my blog friends because my chore list is getting longer by the minute, keeping me away from the computer. And although I post a thought or two every few days, I get few visitors in return. This is my second Christmas as a blogger, so I don't know trends. I miss checking in with people to let them know their blogs are appreciated, and I miss your comments too.

Glad tidings of Christmas to you and your beloveds. I wonder what you all are busy doing. Are you doing the same things I am? Mailing last-minute gifts, shopping a little for stuff I forgot, returning things I shouldn't have bought in the first place? Pulling together details for the family gathering on Christmas Eve, checking in with everyone who's coming and with those wo are not because I miss them? Fixing decorations that are failing because they're 10 years old, trying to keep the finances up to date, and (always my favorite) cleaning the house for company?

I asked my hubby if I could hire a housecleaner in lieu of a Christmas gift and he said no. So today, while I ran errands and kept appointments and shopped a bit, he dusted the living room and every single knickknack in it! I went around studying the furniture and the multitudinous stuff that clutters it up, and he did indeed dust as I like things dusted. I'm speechless. I'm shocked. He gifted me with his own time! I'm going to stay married to this man forever.

Please say a prayer for a clean report for my youngest daughter's biopsy.

One big part of my life this past year that has blessed me is the blogging community that has welcomed me into its midst. You're a generous bunch of people, funny, honest, talented, caring, and thought-provoking. God bless your holiday, every one of you.

What I Love About Furry Legs

The view from my office on Christmas Eve

Christmas Morning



We lie abed with the old dogs and listen to the wind

the children are all grown and have flown with the wind

the window is a collage of leaves washed by the rain

these are the gifts of the Magi: the scent of old dogs

the wealth of the years and the preservation of love

We lie abed with wrinkles and our sagging skin

our love windblown by the turbulence of years

imperfect and well worn The smell of it is beautiful

and your legs are soft as fur where they mingle

with mine and I pet them with my foot

as I consider rising up and bowing down

with this great gift extended to the king transformed

as we are by the hand of God

____________________________

We start off Christmas Eve with a 7 a.m. meeting. There's so much gratitude among the sober alcoholics there, even if they don't have family here, or the family is estranged, or even if they're broke, even if they're homeless. The great gift of recovering from seemingly hopeless state of mind and body is all they care about. The clubhouse in town will have marathon meetings beginning at five p.m. and it will be a safe haven for all who come.


Then we go to work, cleaning the house, dropping off or picking up last-minute thingies, getting dinner organized for our 4 p.m. traditional family supper at our house. That's another great gift. We have shelter and family and food, and many people aren't blessed with such things.


We go to church at 7 to sing the old hymns and savor the atmosphere of our church in full joyous bloom. I know I'll be singing "Angels We Have Heard on High" at some point in the evening. Back home to tidy up and stuff stockings for Christmas morning.


We are alone here on Christmas Eve night, and we wake up on Christmas just the two of us in the house. My daughter will come with a couple of others for the unwrapping of presents, of which there are a few, more than anyone needs, but it's still fun to rip the paper and find the little treasures.


God bless us, everyone, especially those who work through the night in service to others. Happy holidays to all, and to all a good night!

Jolts of Silk

I'm feeling a little silky with bliss today because of three things:


1. The poetry blog site Bolts of Silk features what I think is among my best poems ever. You can see "How the Egret Saved Me" here.


2. I have a year and nine months sobriety today. I no longer mourn that I drank again after 15 years. The experience has given me a new life and a renewed compassion for the alcoholic who still suffers. I mourn nothing that has happened in my life. It has given me richness beyond what I ever hoped for.

3. Tomorrow my family will gather at our house for the annual Christmas Eve supper, and then we'll go to our separate churches for that beautiful Christmas Eve service. I'm grateful for my family and the precious freedoms we have that I too often take for granted.

And saying that, I suddenly envision the Bill of Rights, that amazing document that spells out our freedoms. Then there's the simple statement in the Declaration of Independence that we have the right to pursue life, liberty, and happiness, merely because we live in the United States, a free country....that is awesome, when I think about it. The signers of the Declaration, "appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world," sought justice and freedom, pledging their Lives, their Fortunes, and their sacred Honor to uphold such a declaration.

In spite of the many things that have sullied the independence and freedom envisioned for us, we have that Bill of Rights, and the justice of this land is bound to abide by them. I'm grateful to live in this free country, where I can publish what I like, have the opinions I wish to have, worship the way I want to, and make of my life whatever I'm willing to work for.

Christmas may come and go, but I won't stop praying for peace on earth and good will toward humanity everywhere.

Something's Melting in My Mouth

Baking Christmas Cookies


Gingerbread
Hot sugar
Chocolate melting in the pan.

Baking soda tang
Butterscotch smooth
Heat rising from the oven.

Batter in a bowl
Flour poofing
Stirring soft butter with a spoon.

The last time
you took pleasure
in these textures
was before you shattered.

Now they pierce
the pieces of your heart
with fine small stitches
one at a time.

*************************

Many thanks to Poetikat (http://hyggedigter.blogspot.com/) for passing this award on to me, intending that I should reveal "7 Things You Don't Know About Me."

Hmmm.

1. I once had to sing, "I'm a little teapot, short and stout," in a third-grade school play. I despised having to sing and dance that little tune, because I am short and (now) stout. It has plagued me all these years.

2. I have anxiety attacks pretty regularly, for which I take...nothing! I practice my sobriety tools, like prayer and breathing, and putting one foot in front of the other. The tools get me through it in a sane state.

3. My first name is Diana. It was penciled in on the birth certificate at the last minute because (I was told by my mother) some nurse said I had to have three names, not just two. My real name is Chris. Just Chris. I spent my educational life explaining to the teachers and classmates on the first day of class that my name is just Chris, and it traumatized me like that stupid teapot did.

4. I took my bachelor's degree in English Literature, and went right to work in Los Angeles for the skin-trade, as we called it. I have worked on magazines for both Hugh Hefner and Larry Flynt. My job for seven years was to make sure all the editorial was grammatically correct. Believe it or not.

5. I've cooked the family meals from the time I was 13 years old until I was almost 50. Then my newly retired husband went to culinary school, and I've been saved from cooking dinner for nearly five years. A gift, I tell you!

6. I've been blogging since September, and now I'm addicted. Not a day goes by that I'm not in the blogland. Well, I missed some in October while I was away.

7. My favorite Christmas cookies are what we call "snowballs" made with flour, butter, vanilla and powdered sugar. My daughter insists that we bake them every year. They make a mess when you pop one in your mouth, but then they practically melt. Ah, sugar.

I'm passing this award on to our friend Jenn at http://stillorinshelp.blogspot.com/

Gingerbread photo by Mellors Ltd.