Author: Sharon

Every year I tell the kids that Christmas will be smaller and every year the don’t believe me. Sometimes I have to wonder myself, because it has taken me a full day of wrapping and I’ve still found a few more things I’ve stashed away, like a squirrel prepared for a harsh winter, that I need to wrap! I think the gifts go into some kind of void that only opens near the holiday.

Then there are the gifts that you know you bought, and can’t find anymore. As if the same void just forgot to cough those back up! I mean, c’mon, my closet isn’t that big!!

I’ve been spending roughly the same amount of money on gifts for my kids for years, (read too much) but since they were small when I started with that amount, it looked like tons of stuff. Now as they’ve aged, their gifts are more expensive, but their budget hasn’t really changed. Funny how that’s seemed to work out quite nicely. Now throw in the 4 grandchildren to buy for and my budget is toast! I can’t not buy for the babies!

I’ve got one more batch of cookies to bake tomorrow, I’ve finished a treat I promised a friend, I’ve finished the cards…. (bursting into song- Greeting cards have all been sent, the Christmas rush is through…) ok, enough of that.

So how many people went and listened to my 3 versions of Little Drummer Boy?? I thought someone might comment on the variety I posted. I mean, how often do you hear Klezmer Christmas songs?? It’s almost a contradiction in terms, isn’t it? And the orchestral version of LDB, blended with Ravel’s Bolero? Ok, that’s odd. Then the guitar version is actually kind of nice. I didn’t have the heart to post the German grunge rock band version; be thankful.

That’s my Who-ville name!! What’s yours?

From this link, click “Enter site” at the bottom, and then drag the magnifying glass over to “City Hall” on the upper left hand side. Then choose Your Who Name.

Last night Frank and I went on a date. Sounds funny since we’ve been married so long, but it was a date nonetheless. Frank made reservations at Mrs. K’s Toll House in Silver Spring. We both dressed up in fancy duds and had a lovely dinner. (No Onions anywhere!) After dinner, we drove down to DC to see the lights and to visit the trees on the mall. Since our reservation had been a bit later, we didn’t really have time to get out and walk on the mall, but we cruised about in Everett and listened to some beautiful holiday music while we looked at the decorations and then we came home. It was very very nice.

Which is what I prefer to remember, as opposed to the conversation I had with my sister in the parking lot prior to dinner. Her birthday is Dec. 9 and I had forgotten to call her on her day. (Not my usual style, but it was a concert day and it just slipped by.) Dave’s birthday was the day after, and I wasn’t even up to go out on his day, so I still wasn’t thinking of my sister either. A few days later, I remembered that I had forgotten, so I went and got her a card- she won’t read her email- and figured I’d write my apologies in there. The next morning, with pen poised over the paper, Sean shows me a news article where I learn that my nephew has been arrested. Now I know that my card probably isn’t appropriate anymore and that I owe my sister a phone call, but I’m not going to call her that day since the arrest was fresh and I wanted to let her get over the things you have to take care of when your child is in trouble. That led to a quiet time, early for a dinner reservation, 10 days after her birthday, when I finally made the call. Glad I did, and glad I waited. She was teasing me about forgetting, but kinda serious because she figured something had to be very wrong for me not to remember her. I explained that I had seen what was going on in her life and was giving her a bit of space before I checked in.

 She’s a mess. Her son is facing jail time and almost 40k worth of fines and damages and some of the root of his behavior can be traced to his father (they are divorced) who is mentally and emotionally abusive and a drug addict. My nephew is part of one of those downward spirals that drugs can drag a family through. I offered my love and support to my sister and walked into the restaurant.

Frank and I just looked at each other, both feeling the same sympathy/empathy for my sister. Not the best birthday nor holiday for her this year. We said we owed our children a discussion to say two things.
 1. See, I wasn’t kidding when I said this kind of thing could happen and to follow the rules, this is why I was always “up in your junk”!
 2. Thank you for listening and following the rules!
I love my kids.

A few of my creations from long ago. I miss my clay…

739 seats have been assigned, at least 100 reassigned, 188 singers have been rehearsed and uniformed, food and supplies for over 700 people have been purchased and loaded into my car, emails, phone calls, directions, lists; all done. Now it’s time to settle my nerves a bit and trust that I’ve done a good job and all is well. I’ll let you know tomorrow!

Frank found 124 versions of LIttle Drummer Boy for me on the web. ( I only wanted one, but this is interesting) We’ve heard a country version, a grunge band, choral, klezmer, operatic, pops orchestra, guitar – you name it. Frank suggested we put it on my MP3 player. I told him I think Little Drummer Boy 124 times might be fatal.

Just like any other evening in my office, my cat is under my desk lamp sunning herself, the dog is just behind my chair casters, testing fate to see if I’ll run over her, and Frank and I are sitting at our respective desks poking around/working on our computers. We are all in the smallest room of the house, funny how that’s the coziest little spot.

With my children all young adults, (almost oxymoronic, eh?) and the usual concert time crunch in the beginning of December, I made the suggestion that we get an artificial tree. This is the second year I’ve suggested it.

Frank was not amused. In fact, his reaction bordered on indignant. How DARE I consider a faux fir??

Sean was backing the idea of a plastic pine. He even suggested that we could all build a fire in the back yard, trudge out into the cold to the shed, shuffle around inside and come out with “the perfect tree”! Funny boy.

It so happened that yesterday, Sean had brought home a truck and everything fell into place for us to get our tree, kinda. We had originally thought we might go (yikes!!) cut down a tree at a tree farm, but the messy weather didn’t really allow for that, so we piled into the truck and crept through the messy slushy streets to a local roadside tree vendor. Frank, Jr, Sean, Shawnda and I sloshed through the slushy pavement, pulling out trees, shaking them off and spinning them to see if there were holes, or crooked trunks. We were the only silly ones there.

Sean hates the cold and wanted everything to be done fairly quickly. (But that’s just Sean most of the time) It didn’t help that he was hungry and really hadn’t eaten all day. He and Shawnda stood to one side and looked less than comfy. Frank and Jr were ready for the hunt, talking of how they were gonna ‘sawzall’ the poor thing when they got it home. I swear I could see the tree quivering. (that also could have been the person holding the tree simply shivering; it was 28 degrees outside)

After searching the “cheap side” of the lot, we went for the firs. For years we had gotten soft wispy scotch pines so the needles wouldn’t hurt the kids feet, but now that we are all those oxymorons, we can stand the tougher needles of the firs. Just means that MOMMY gets to decorate the thing ’cause now the needles poke their HANDS!

With our prize in Frank’s hands we loaded the tree into the trunk and I quietly thanked Frank for being so indignant for another year.