It's crunch time. We're all feeling the pressure. I was scrambling trying to make sure my work was finished in the office. I was busting my tail getting all the boring stuff done so I could roll up my sleeves and jump in to the fun stuff. Happy Holidays everyone! I almost drown in my Christmas cheer.
It began with the tree. I am allergic to pine but I don a festive hazmat suit and trudge through. I wouldn't have it any other way. What says Christmas in a grander fashion than this momma of two wheezing "The First Noel" through her allergy mask while beads of sweat glisten like new fallen snow as they drip from my upper lip? And of course my fingers resemble little Vienna sausages ...SO plump! When you throw in the itch factor? It is maddening, but what's a little gnawing of the digits to relieve some festive anaphylaxis? I turn a FABULOUS shade of red. Well, we got that nine-foot evergreen bad boy in the stand and shoved an entire set of Lincoln Logs in the various empty spaces to get it to stand up straight by itself; no tipping, not even rigging it to the wall with forty pound testline and cup hooks. Nope it stands on its own. We dragged out the biggest ladder the power company had,"unwadded" the lights, tucking them in the branches and promptly strangled this poor holiday shrub. But the Christmas tree didn't go quietly. Oh no. It got its licks in.
You know when you are handing the lights around (the circumference is a WEE bit more than both your arm spans so you have to mash your face in there a little bit...just to reach over and that stray branch whips across your cheek? "Whaaapeech!" Then there is the sap...yep. We're all wandering with little stickly clumps of hair and smudges on our fingers. We resembled two year olds learning to wave bye-bye with a slightly confused and irritated glow. Winston believes something evil is living in the carpet and has taken a fancy to pulling his poor little foot. So he just jumps around swatting and snapping at his toes. I'll need to up his dose. Nothing says "Happy Holidays" like a touch of bipolar in your pet. It's the gift that keeps on giving.
The kids scaled the ladder began to sling the ornaments. I had my OCD version of how it should go: Where the red balls went, the blue icicles, the homemade ornaments and which ones are just too ugly to go on the tree so I'd hide them at the bottom. Nope. The kids were decorating maCHINES. They were buzzing around that tree like hornets on a popcan.
" Remember? We had six of these but then one....CRASH! We had five of these but then some broke. Ooooo look at THIS one! It's a beautiful icicle. Did I make this one? "
"Um no Honey that's a paperclip we use to hang it. Here's yours. "
And of course when all was said and done there were seventy-five balls hanging in a cluster with the rest of the tree as naked as Lady Godiva. Their eyes were absoLUTELY beaming! They loved this tree. And to be honest? So did I. The swelling is going down and I have stopped biting my knuckles to relieve the itch. Yes, Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus. Thank you for the Benadryl stocking stuffer and the wonderfully creative elves that decorated my tree. "Oh Tanenbaum!!!"
I ventured upstairs to do my elfly duty. I turned on a Christmas station. It was difficult to find one. There were only 253 that I could pick up on my little clock radio. And I began. To start out, I cut neatly, precisely and efficiently. I wrapped with care and made sure each gift had a special bow and was color coordinated with the appropriate family. I was humming along with Nat King Cole. Yes. "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen".
Three hours into this extravaganza; I was insane with a lower backache. I could no longer stand up straight. My thumb had developed a blister. I believed I wrapped the scissors and had run out of tape. I made up the art of creative folding in which you don't need tape but you use a LOT more paper. I regretted NOT making the tradition that if Santa brings it, it doesn't get wrapped. I was out of tags and my pen had leaked onto my pants, fingers and worst of all (since I held it in my mouth for the twenty minute search for the scissors my friend's daughter will be unwrapping in a few days....) my lips.
" I'm not leaving here until all this crap is done!" I thought joyfully. "Where are all those friggin boxes? I still have shirts to cover up! Screw it! I'm just going to use some of this old glitter glue and some of these empty wrapping paper tubes! Which family gets red and gold? "
By now, I HATE that stupid song by George Michael...."Laaaast Christmas, I gave you Mah Heart...but the very next day, you gave it away" You bet I did! I gave it to Mariah Carey so she'd stop howling at octaves beyond human hearing and my ears wouldn't bleed so much! Stupid songs. Dumb Yule. Get me some matches. I'll burn that damn log......Where's my eggnog? Forget it! Hand the rum over! NOW! and no one will get hurt.
You need cookies? MORE COOKIES????? Get away from me! No. There is no more butter; ANYWHERE ON THE EAST COAST. It's all gone.
What do you MEAN you still need a gift for the bus driver's assistant? AND the janitor's dog? WHAT BOOK EXCHANGE???? YOU NEVER MENTIONED A BOOK EXCHANGE! No. OOHHHHH no. I'm not going out again. Santa's workshop is CLOSED!
I love Christmas. Truly. I wish you and yours safe travels, wonderful surprises and lovely memories. May your holidays be bright and may your tape have no end.
